


Pandemic

by LadyLan



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Inspired by The Walking Dead, Multi, Walkers (Walking Dead)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 51,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3549899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLan/pseuds/LadyLan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of a pandemic, a small group of survivors band together. Fighting against the undead is difficult, but living peacefully among one another is a more complicated feat entirely. [All human ensemble cast with BV, GC and other pairings]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bulma

**Author's Note:**

> One of my goals this year is to write a little every day. So, I've taken a page from the lovely Piccolo is Green and am trying my hand at a "drabble-fic", of which she is the queen.
> 
> (Note: I miiiight've been watching too many Walking Dead reruns on Netflix recently.)

Tearing back a small section of curtain, Bulma Brief chanced a glance outside. Spiky pine threw jagged shade across her lawn and the outlying buildings of the Capsule Corps compound. She inhaled and let the curtain fall back into place. It was noon, when the sun was at its peak, and though it was an unusually warm spring for West City, a shiver snaked down her spine.

"What do you think?" her mother said. Her voice was sheathed in a whisper, but it carried the same volume as her regular voice. Bulma had tried to stress the point that Lurkers were attracted to sound, but to no avail.

She propped a shotgun on her shoulder and replied, "There's a CB radio in Building 3. I think I can get to it."

"Do you think…" Her mother gave an audible swallow, her hands shaking at her sides. "Do you think there's anyone else out there?"

Bulma took another peek at the lawn, her eyes narrowing on Building 3. "If we've made it, there are others. West City itself might be compromised, but there are survivors." There had to be. "We need the CB."

"Be careful, Bulma."

She almost laughed. Instead, she steadied her shotgun and started across the yard. She'd taken out most of the lab workers who had Turned days ago, but there was always a chance that new Lurkers had made their way here.

As soundlessly as possible, Bulma tiptoed across the lawn. She wasn't strong or even a very good shot, but she was smart. And she'd had some time to prepare. Eight days ago the Center for Disease Control had contacted her father for an emergency task force. He'd packed up his things in a fit of excitement, telling Bulma all about the thrilling opportunity for genetic research and experimental remedies for pandemic plagues. Bulma had watched her father, feeling a sharp pang of confusion. When she'd asked for a clear answer, he'd only said that the Turnings they were hearing about on the news - mostly in far away, outlying towns - was spreading quickly. They wanted to employ a team to find a cure.

She hadn't heard from him since. But she had secured the place, readied medical supplies, and brought out her grandfather's hunting armory because it seemed better than sitting on her hands, waiting for the inevitable.

And the inevitable did happen. In a matter of days, the plague spread to the cities. The horrifying effects snowballed and then it was too late.

Bulma leaned against the curved stucco of Building 3. She listened for something, anything, but heard only silence. With a steady breath, she pulled open the door, its creaking metal alerting any Lurkers in the area that she was there. She waited, her pulse pounding in her ears. Still there was nothing. So she entered the building, shotgun drawn, moving the weapon back and forth, back and forth like she'd seen done on all those frightening movies Yamcha took her to see, to get her close in hopes of feeling her up. The inside of the building remained largely untouched. Papers sat in neat stacks on desks. Unturned waste baskets half full of rubbish. The CB radio perched on its shelf. Bulma plucked the clunky device from the metal case and turned on her heel. And then she heard it. The pulsing alarm signalling that the gates to CC had been breached.

"Shit," she cursed. And with the radio tucked in the crook of one arm, she quickly rushed from Building 3 and out into the sunny courtyard. Her eyes flashed around the walled premises for any sign of movement. She watched a single hand grip the top of her wall, and then a second.

She raised her shotgun, but her mind raced. How. It would take an exceptional athlete to climb that wall. Certainly no Lurker she'd come across was capable. They were weak, slow. She followed the figure through the sights of her gun, and then nearly dropped the weapon when a familiar hairstyle peeked over the brick followed by a familiar face.

"Holy crap," she rasped. "Goku."


	2. Kame House

One minute they were discussing the anchorwoman's breasts, the next news of the pandemic monopolized the broadcast.

The broadcast played all day, over the daytime talk shows and evening sitcoms. The purple-haired woman with the bouncing jugs reported the first few incidents with her brow puckered in mild concern. The jokes about her impressive rack were still the topic of conversation in the small seating area, ever tinged with humor.

Then the images started rolling in.

"Ho-lee-chit," Roshi squawked. Krillin dropped a plate full of sticky rice as he watched the jumpy cellphone video. The plate broke with a resounding clash. Roshi didn't look away from the screen. He wasn't even looking at the news caster's assets any longer. "That thing, it's a freaking zombie."

Yajirobe and Yamcha sat perched on an opposite sofa, mouths agape. Words had apparently failed them both.

"That's ridiculous," Oolong interjected. "There's no such thing."

"We are still not sure of how the virus is transferred, but it appears to be very dangerous and extremely contagious," Boobs McGee reported. Her brow was still puckered. Her carefully timed swallows thick with concern.

"Well, what are the damn things then?" Roshi questioned.

The news reports started referring to them as The Infected. They described horrific stories where whole towns were being wiped out by the plague. Of the onset fever. Said that the virus appeared to be concentrated in the brain, and that a shot to the head was the only remedy.

The five inhabitants of the island sat glued to the television, all martial arts training pushed aside for the time being. They remained isolated, with only the television set bringing in clues of the happenings of the outlying world.

Then the news reports became frantic. East City had been taken, and they warned that King Furry had employed the world's military to 'take care' of the situation.

And then the broadcasts stopped.

Oolong pounded one meaty fist against the television set, but the static remained.

Krillin and Yamcha talked in whispers, while Roshi watched on, serious for a change.

"What are we going to do?" Yajirobe spoke up. Oolong left the television on, but the static sound began to grate his nerves so he turned down the volume. Kame House was eerily silent.

Yamcha glanced out one of the small windows at the endless expanse of ocean stretching in every direction. They were alone. Isolated. Everyone he knew outside was… Well, he didn't want to think about that at the moment. "We're safe here. For now at least, we're safe."


	3. 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a few more introduction chapters before our heroes and heroines meet up. I know these are short - but I promise to get things moving quickly.

"Fucking pieces of shit," she snapped, leveling her crossbow at a Biter and watching her arrow sail through the air and land square in its brain. It had been a female, once, but 18 Gero refused to think of the monsters in terms of gender. They were all its as far as she was concerned, shells of their former selves. Entirely disconnected to the people they'd once been.

Now they were mindless, rotting corpses who roamed about, reanimated by some power she didn't understand, sniffing out human flesh and blood. Reducing their cities to burning piles of ash. Creating a world that was nothing but hostility and panik.

She ran past and snatched her arrow out of the Biter's skull and turned towards her brother. 17 swiped some of his dark hair away from his face. Knife in hand, he did a careful survey of the Foods And More! before giving his sister a deft nod.

"Two Biters in the front and one back in the freezer section."

His twin turned up her nose as she readied another arrow in her bow. "I'll take the one out by the freezer. You get the pair and then we'll meet back up here. Nothing useless this time 17. I mean it. We can't afford to lug around a bunch of junk."

He flashed a grin before ducking off to take out the two Biters near the checkout line. Last supply run his sister had bitched endlessly about his takings. He snatched up a package of gum and slipped it into his backpack, just to piss her off.

There wasn't much to live for these days, and entertainment was hard to come by. Riling up 18 might be the only chance he'd get.

He approached the pair, one a hulky giant weighing over two hundred and seventy-five pounds. He glanced at the second figure. A wiry little thing with a missing arm. He scoffed, readied his knife, and then plunged it into the back of the smaller Biter's skull. It fell to the ground with a crowning gurgle. 17 wiped the black blood off his knife with the material of his pants before turning towards the next Biter.

With a smirk, he grabbed for his larger knife and tossed it.

"Damn," he said as the knife sailed a bit too low, sticking in the Biter's left cheek and not its eye socket as intended. "Guess I'm going to have to do this the hard way…"

Frowning, he lured the Biter to the front railing, made it twirl in circles with a few smacks of his lips in an exaggerated kiss, and then, when he had the bastard where he'd intended, 17 leaned forward and extended his foot, tripping the large Biter and watching as the shelves around them shook with the force of its fall. 17's knife clattered to the ground, but the Biter was crawling towards it. He'd have to make do with his smaller knife. Which sucked, but that's why he carried two.

Shaking his head, he leaned over and dug his knee into the Biter's back. The giant growled and squirmed beneath him. With a satisfying thud, 17 took him out with his smaller knife, watching as the Biter tensed before falling limp beneath him.

Their father had warned in his last phone call that the disease seemed to be connected to the brain. That it somehow controlled the nerve endings that moved the muscles of the body after the infected person had past.

With both walkers taken out, 17 grabbed his larger knife from the ground and sheathed it.

"What's taking so long, big brother?"

He turned to find 18 headed in his direction, crossbow against her back, knapsack brimming with supplies.

Food, he hoped. Medicine, probably. Feminine hygiene products, he rolled his eyes.

"Hurry up. We've got to get a move on."


	4. Tien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, while the original motivation to write a story where characters struggle to survive in the new world of flesh-eating, reanimated dead were somewhat inspired by the show, the relationship to The Walking Dead stops there. You definitely don't need to have seen the show to appreciate the story, and you certainly won't be receiving any spoilers to the show by reading this.
> 
> Otherwise - enjoy!

He needed ammunition.

Food and shelter were high on his list of priorities, but he needed ammunition or he wasn't going to make it to the food or the shelter.

He checked the shells in his Judge. Four rounds lefts. Four fucking rounds. The place was crawling with Walkers, and he four fucking rounds. The shells would spray, sure, but it wouldn't help with…

"What's wrong, Tien?"

The world was falling apart around his ears. His master had tried to eat him alive. He'd seen some of his peers gutted. Seen more than his fair share of suicides amongst the panic. Instead of listing any one of those atrocities, he answered with calculated aloofness:

"We need ammo."

"Oh." Chiaotzu nodded. His small hands were clenched around the katana. He'd been a trained mercenary too, but this - whatever this was - wasn't boding well with him. He was afraid. Rightfully so, but Tien wasn't sure how to quell his fears. He tried a smile, but it felt tight. Forced. Four fucking rounds.

"We'll have to find a sporting goods store. These small towns usually have them."

"I thought we were looking for a safe house."

Tien exhaled through his nose. He scrubbed a hand over his bald head, glanced down at his clothes. They were splotched with dirt and blood. When he looked over, his small companion was looking at him, eyes shining with hope. "We won't be able to keep a house safe without any ammo."

They kept to the road, walking in the banks just off the side. It was deserted. An occasional branch snapped from somewhere in the distance, and though it was probably just a deer or calf or something harmless, it made his heart speed a fraction. It felt a bit like a death march, walking towards the inevitable, just biding their time.

"There." Tien nodded his head at the truck stop. The sign spelled out that they were out of gas - who wasn't these days, hence why they were on foot - and though the windows were boarded the front door was wide open. "They might have some bullets. At the very least we can pick up some new weapons."

"And food," Chiaotzu added.

Tien shrugged. "Sure."

They took out two of the Walkers inside the rest stop quickly. Two fucking rounds left. Tien's heart sank a fraction. But there on the wall boasted a meager armory. Most of it had been picked over, but this place hadn't been hard hit. Relatively, it was still in good shape. Chiaotzu happily loaded up on individual boxes of cereal and potato chips and protein bars, tossing them into his duffle bag. Tien reached for a box of shells when a rifle clicked to his right.

He whipped his head over and raised his gun.

A woman stood glaring at him, her eyes hard. Her hair a windswept mess held back with a bandanna. Her lips were pursed, her rifle steady.

His finger was firm on the trigger. He couldn't see Chiaotzu, but surely this woman couldn't be alone. No one made it this far on their own.

"This ammo is mine," she said. "Make one move and you're done."

Tien lowered his weapon and raised his hands in an exaggerated surrender.

"Wait. Let's use our heads here. We're both human. Are you infected?"

She shook her head. Silence settled between them.

"Then we should team up."

Her brows narrowed over sharp eyes. "I don't team up."

"It's not safe out there."

"No shit."

Tien chuckled. "You'd do better in a group."

"Do what better? Die? Have my flesh ripped off by Biters? Have my skull shot from behind so you can get my rifle."

Chiaotzu stepped into his line of sight. The small boy looked up at the woman and her guard eased a fraction. Chiaotzu had that effect on people.

"You're just a kid…"

His lips flexed to a smile. Outside a Walker past the window. His shadow made the trio pause, but he continued on, ambling aimlessly. Chiaotzu watched the Walker until he was out of view, then turned to the woman and said, "We've done well. Tien's a good shot. It's bad out there. Real bad. We're going to find safety."

The woman shook her head. Despite her hard edges, Tien saw a bit of vulnerability in her. Just for a second. "There's nothing out there. There's no place that's safe."

"That isn't true." And Tien wanted to flinch and the optimistic tone in Chiaotzu's high voice. He was a believer, through and through. While everything was going to shit, Chiaotzu made sure they pressed on. That they had hope.

"Fine," the woman grumbled, and then lowered her rifle. "There're only two shotguns and a handgun left, but I found some more boxes of shells behind the counter. This place wasn't ransacked like most I've come across." She tossed him the shells and stuffed a box of .22 in her pack. "I want to find a place to sleep before nightfall."

"We've been sticking just off the road."

She sighed. "Lunch."

"There are plenty of protein bars and some-"

"My name," she interrupted, giving the pair a sharp roll of her eyes. "My name is Lunch."

"Tien," he replied with a curt nod.

"And I'm Chiaotzu."

"There's a fence around back; probably a farm nearby."

And somehow the blonde woman became their leader. Tien loaded four extra shells into his six-shooter as he followed her up the road. The gunmetal Judge had a good, comforting weight to it, and he kept it out. Always ready. Their new companion, Lunch, kept her rifle slung over her shoulder like a woman straight from the Wild West. In different circumstance it would've been kind of… hot.

Chiaotzu walked eagerly by her side, filling her in on where they'd been and what they'd seen. She nodded when appropriate and looked back at him, occasionally, catching his eye but not saying anything. Silence filled the air around them while Chiaotzu wasn't talking. Sweat clung to his brow. His boots were muddy, his clothes filthy. He hadn't showered in days. Hadn't eaten a meal that wasn't cold or stale. Hadn't…

The little wooden cabin came into view. And he saw a figure hunched on the rooftop, gun in hand.

"Wait," Tien snapped, and both of his companions skidded to a stop. "Up there. On the roof."

"They're alive." Once again, Chiaotzu's voice was full of happiness. Of childlike hope. Tien's face fell. They'd just brought their small group of two to three. But in the end, numbers meant safety against hordes of the flesh-eating infected. It also brought on the chance that others would kill them for their food and supplies.

The figure on the roof stood up, stilling upon seeing their arrival. Their non-sluggish gait. Their weapons. And then the figure was through a dormered window and racing out the front door. They heard a voice, carrying and feminine, shouting for someone to come out.

And then there were two people headed in their direction. A young, dark-haired woman and a brawdy man at her heels. The woman's eyes were wide, her ponytail swinging behind her. Her clothes were oddly clean. A crisp linen blouse that looked as though it had been washed recently. The hulking man looked in similar condition. Certainly well-fed.

Lunch turned and shot Tien a glare. "I suppose you want to let them live, too."

He nodded, once, and the blonde woman sighed. She held onto her rifle just the same.

"Hi," the newcomer greeted with her approach. She had a pleasant face, kind and pretty, but an AR was in her hands, two extra clips were hanging from her belt. Crazy, what the plague had done to his fellow man. "I'm Chichi. This is my father, Ox."

Chiaotzu grinned eagerly and it was like the world wasn't crawling with insanity. Like they hadn't survived eight days of hell on Earth. Like his master and trainer hadn't continued towards him after he'd broken his femur in two, snapping bloody teeth in his direction.

"Is it safe here?" Lunch asked, her eyes darting around the property. It was in good shape, considering.

"We've seen the occasional Lurker, but we're still on our feet." Then the girl, Chichi, looked down at Chiaotzu and a warm smile lit her features. "You look worse for wear, little guy. What do you say we go inside and I fix you something to eat?"

Chiaotzu skipped ahead, and Tien and Lunch exchanged another long look.

"I don't trust them," Lunch whispered.

Tien sighed. "I've known you one hour. I doubt you trust anyone."

She took another meaningful glance around the property before expelling a heavy breath from her lungs. But the sun was setting, and she didn't want to be out, exposed, after dark, so she followed Chichi and Ox and Tien and Chiaotzu inside. And there were so many fucking people here but it did give her a tiny spark of hope. Because if all these people had made it, others had too.


	5. Vegeta

Black blood pooled around his boot. He gave the Walker another swift kick to the skull for good measure. It was dead, but it never hurt to be sure.

He glanced up to find four more Walkers coming in his direction. A woman with limp brown hair. He shot her first. She teetered before falling to the ground in a heap of yellowed flesh pulled tight over jagged bones. He steadied his GSG 522, settling the sights on a Walker whose slatted ribs were exposed, the flesh of his abdomen probably eaten off before Turning. Vegeta's lips pulled into a snarl and he squeezed the trigger. The kickback was minimum, nothing he wasn't used to. He quickly did away with the last two approaching Walkers, both disgusting fucks who fell with echoing thuds. When all was still, Vegeta turned to his men.

Nappa, the large bald one was cleaning off his axe. When Vegeta had found him during the initial outbreak he had a tomahawk and the axe in his belt; he'd lost the weapon in a cluster of blood-suckers two days ago and had been in a tiff ever since.

The third member of their group, Raditz, was still hacking away at a young Walker. The little thing must've had a thick skull, because it took two swings of the machete to do him in.

"Move out," Vegeta commanded, and his men nodded obediently.

He wanted to find Nappa and Raditz guns, but this town looked to have already been ransacked. They were moving west. Central City, where they'd come from, was despoiled. He'd heard Metro East wasn't any better.

The small town they were passing through was yet another wasteland. Soot coated the streets. Abandoned cars sat in various states of neglect. The shops had been picked through, doors ajar, windows broken littering shards of glass and broken plywood onto the desolate sidewalks.

"Veg-" Nappa's voice rang through, and Vegeta turned and knocked the butt of his gun against the Walker's skull. It crumpled and withered face-up on the dirt, snapping its rotting teeth at him. Vegeta aimed his weapon low and shot a single bullet through its skull.

"I said move out."

"Hn." Nappa growled. "This town is a fucked. I doubt we'll find a single weapon or a scrap of food."

Vegeta ignored him. The sun was sinking below the horizon. He was tired, but he had the first watch. They'd have to find a spot to hunker down for the night. He knew the drill. Two exits, easy to block but a place that wouldn't put their backs against the wall.

And even though the two men drove him insane, Vegeta knew he'd put one hell of a task force together. All three had served together years before, not that anything from Before mattered. And tactical experience was nothing; the military had proved to be a fucking joke in the days following the outbreak. The army had been decimated, just like the rest of existence.

Raditz secured the windows of a squat little bungalow while Nappa set to find something to eat. Vegeta waited by the front door, his eyes on the empty street. Some of these houses were probably crawling with Walkers, but the dumb fucks were barely capable of walking in a straight line. As long as Vegeta and his men were prepared, there wasn't a threat.

He watched the sun complete its decent. The darkness sinking on every visible inch of space, covering the barren street in shadow. They had a stockpile of lighters, but they'd have to conserve their flames. Flint was on the list of things he was looking for, but what the fuck wasn't.

The silence was calming. It meant nothing was coming. Walkers were clunky, they didn't have the smarts to be careful. Vegeta leaned against the cool brick and, for a moment, his hard muscles relaxed.

He hated the state of this fucking planet. Hated Walkers and what they'd reduced his existence to. But he had to admit, he was pretty damn good at killing them. Most of the planet had succumbed to the plague, but he'd scoffed at the suicidal cowards and the weaklings who'd allowed themselves to be caught, to be bitten. They'd been cowardly and weak before. Served them right.

For a moment, with the calm and the silence he tried and failed to remember Before.

He knew the facts. Nappa'd had a wife. Radtiz had lived with his grandfather, was always receiving packages from his little brother. Vegeta'd had a life, too, but even though he knew these things the memories felt fuzzy. Like he'd seen them in a film instead of experiencing them firsthand. There were images but no emotions connected to them.

"It's secure," Raditz confirmed, tucking the hammer into his emergency pack and dusting his splintered hands on his pants.

"This will do for the night. Tomorrow we'll go west, find someplace with weapons."

Tomorrow. They'd lived in a time Before where they weren't always guaranteed to see the light of the next day. They'd lived through it then and they'd make it though this, too. It was simply a matter of survival.


	6. Bulma

The buildings flanking the street cast long, ominous shadows. A promise of the monsters lurking below. Bulma glanced down at the rat racing its way towards the sewer, and even though she cringed, because rats were freaking terrifying, they couldn't hold a candle to the real threat. And the fact that rats still roamed about was was comforting. Lurkers would devour anything with a pulse.

Even though the practical part of her brain assured her it was a good sign, and the street was eerily, blissfully silent, Bulma hated being out in the open. But being exposed this way was only temporary. Their fuel efficient sedan had run until the empty, and she'd rather sit in the safety of another stolen vehicle than walk. So here she was.

She shivered. The breeze licked her face, her exposed shoulders. She let her blue hair loose before retying her ponytail with shaking hands. She tiptoed a few more steps and tried her luck with the first car on the block. When she pulled on the handle, the alarm blared.

"Fuck," she cursed, knowing the flashing lights and earsplitting sirens were like ringing a dinner bell. Every Lurker within earshot would be making their way in her direction. She glanced back down the street, where Goku stood protecting her mom with nothing but a shovel. With a deep breath, she tried the next two vehicles. Bulma was about ready to smash a window when she yanked the handle of a sturdy little jeep and its door opened.

Bulma leapt inside, slamming the door closed, beyond caring about noise since the car alarm was still blaring. Biting her lower lip, Bulma pried the ignition lock out of the column with a flathead until she heard the satisfying pop. Then she jammed the screwdriver into the slot and turned. Figuring out how to steal cars hadn't proved a difficult task. She'd taken enough automobiles apart only put them back together in her youth. If they ran into car trouble that wasn't the pesky matter of fuel, they'd be fine.

The engine started and she sunk her foot on the gas pedal. They only had half a tank, but it was better than walking. Goku could do a run and siphon some gas later. Or she could take another car. Or, maybe, they'd get extra lucky and come across a fuel station with some gas left.

Not that she'd hold her breath for the latter. The streets were jam-packed with cars. They'd already had to turn back and find an alternate route twice because they couldn't get through. And neither her mother nor Goku was any help at reading a map.

Bulma stopped the jeep in front of Goku and her mother, who shot her twin grins. Goku jumped into the passenger's seat, running his hands on the torn cloth seats.

"Sweet ride, Bulma."

She wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not. She looked at Goku, his goofy grin despite the carnage that surrounded him, a shovel resting between his legs. She'd only seen his hard edge a few times, when they'd been confronted by Lurkers. Otherwise he was oddly cheerful for a world so bleak.

Bulma shook her head. "It'll hold up, but we'll need fuel at some point."

With a nod, Goku pulled the CB radio out of his backpack. Bulma shot the device a quick look before turning her attention back to the road. A few Lurkers attempted to follow the vehicle, but they were far too slow. She glanced in the rear view mirror to confirm that they'd all fallen behind before pulling out of town and onto a smaller county road. The highways were impossible to navigate, a parking lot spanning in both directions, but save a few roadblocks the smaller roads had proved navigable.

"Any luck?" she asked, because the silence was suffocating.

Goku tapped the side of the radio, watching as the lights blinked to life. He touched the walkie and repeated the message he'd been broadcasting the last few days.

"Three survivors. Heading, uh," he paused and looked to Bulma. She gave a frown at offered,

"North."

"Heading north through River City. Three survivors heading north."

He snapped the walkie back in place, and the trio listened to the radio silence. Bulma bit her lip, swerving around a parked car. She knew riding at 55 was optimal for conserving fuel, but it was tedious.

And then a booming voice cut through the static.

"We've got a little crew of five. Waiting at 554 King Road, just outside River City."

Bulma and Goku exchanged a look. The voice was loud, deep and very masculine. Intimidating, really. And who with a secure house would broadcast their location? Bulma exhaled through her nose. They were low on supplies. They needed something, someone to bring them hope. They were heading north to coast. The CDC where her father was had to be secure. And if not, if things there were like they were elsewhere, Goku's martial arts instructor lived on an island. Bulma tapped the wheel. An island surely had to be secluded enough to escape the plague.

"Let him know we're on our way," she said, injecting authority in her tone. Even if she wasn't really all that sure. Even if it was a bit hard to swallow.

"Oh goodie. Finally some company!" her mother cheered from the backseat. And Bulma frowned at her from the rear-view. If it weren't for herself and Goku, Mrs. Briefs would most certainly be dead.


	7. Goku

It was a cute little cabin with dormers and cherry red shutters. Barely visible from the road, peeking through a cluster of mature oak trees. Bulma slowed their pilfered jeep at the iron gate and the engine lolled.

Mrs. Brief squinted at the map before looking around the deserted county road. "Is this the place?"

Bulma nodded in affirmation, though Goku noticed her eyes didn't hold the same confidence he'd grown used to. She was always barking orders, telling them what to do and when they could do it. For a woman with no martial arts or survival training, she'd been awfully efficient when faced with this strange new way of life.

She never seemed happy though. Always frowning, always serious. Even now, sitting in the jeep, staring at the cabin in the distance that looked perfectly safe to him, the weight of everything seemed resting on her shoulders.

On the other hand, Goku was kind of… enjoying himself. Besides the whole having-to-kill-Lurkers thing, it was fun. A bit like camping. He and his grandpa would go into the woods for days, hunting and fishing and playing survivalist. Goku would pretend he was off with Raditz, his brother, who was stationed in some exciting part of the world Goku would probably never get to see himself. But this, moving from one place to the next, scavenging for food, making camp fires, it was a bit like one of their wilderness campouts on steroids. It made it more exciting, even, because it felt so real.

He didn't say that he liked things out loud, of course. Bulma would most likely yell at him.

"Goku," Bulma's voice commanded. "Contact the safe house and let them know we're at the gate."

Goku got out the radio and did as asked, his eyes switching from the Lurker headed in their direction. Out here in this farm country Lurkers were few and far between. A few Lurkers were nothing. He and Bulma could take out four or five easily enough. The problem arose when they traveled in groups. A dozen or so could corner you, which was probably why Bulma was always looking for someplace safe.

So the three occupants of the jeep sat, listening as the radio static was interrupted and a voice, this time bright and feminine, said,

"Wait by the gate. We'll meet you there."

After a few moments, three figures approached. Two women, both carrying guns, trailing a tall man. The early afternoon sun glistened off his bald head. Bulma opened the driver's side door and Goku quickly followed suit.

One of the women stopped short of the gate, her blonde hair badly wind blown around her face. Her arms were crossed and her face pinched in distrust. Goku snapped his gaze to the second woman. An equally frowning, petite Asian. Probably only a year or two younger than himself. The man was the only one not glaring at him, so Goku concentrated on him.

"I'm Goku," he greeted.

"Tien," the man replied. The women flanking him kept their lips bit together. Their expressions didn't soften and no name betrayed them. Goku turned to find Bulma also frowning. He wanted to roll his eyes.

"This is Bulma and…" his voice trailed. He wasn't sure what Bulma's moms name was, so he settled with, "Mrs. Brief."

"You're traveling by car?" Tien asked, his gaze flicking to the jeep still thrumming. Goku turned to find the Lurker was close. He should take care of it soon.

"We are," Bulma interjected. "But the main roads are at a standstill. It's getting impossible to get through the further east we go."

The bald man, Tien, nodded. "Look, I'm sure you understand why we haven't opened the gate just yet. You have weapons."

Bulma glanced at her shotgun and Goku's shovel. "It's the only way to survive out here."

Tien exhaled through his nose. "You can come in for a bit, but this can't be a permanent situation."

"We can help," Bulma offered. Goku caught a bit of desperation crack her voice. "I'm good at supply runs. Goku's dynamite with that shovel of his. We can pull our weight."

Tien looked back to the Asian woman and one corner of her mouth lifted into a soft grin.

"We let you two in," she said. "And we could use a few more faces around here. I'm Chichi." And with that, she stepped forward and unlocked the gate. Sliding it open, she inclined her head. Bulma moved quickly, hopping in the cab and pulling the jeep inside. Chichi and Tien closed the gate and did the lock behind her. The Lurker from the road was close now. Snarling and snapping its teeth from the opposite side of the metal fence.

Bulma stepped forward and drove her knife through his skull. The Lurker fell to the ground in a lifeless heap and Bulma quickly wiped her knife off on her pants. A shiver betrayed her spine and, for the first time in ages, she felt a bit of … relief. The cabin seemed well guarded. An iron gate circling its perimeter, it was nestled in an area with a relatively sparse population. It seemed untouched despite the chaos outside.

Even if it was only temporary, Bulma decided she could maybe even manage a decent night's sleep tonight.

Once inside, Chichi introduced the new trio to her father, who was probably the booming, intimidating voice they'd heard on the CB earlier that day. Ox, it turned out, was hardly intimidating. Instead he was jolly and friendly and smiled at them in greeting.

He offered them food and blankets, and Bulma almost leapt with joy at the mention of a shower.

"It's just tied to our well. No hot water though, unfortunately. The water heater was electric, and… Well, that's all seemed to have gone down."

Some of Bulma's excitement dwindled, but she figured given a bit of time and some proper tools, she could rig something up. But this was only temporary, she reminded herself, running her fingers through her wet, tangled hair. She only glanced down once at the drain the filthy water made her cringe. And even if Ox had offered something permanent, that wasn't the plan. They were headed to Kame House. She soaked her hair in conditioner and breathed in the scent of lavender and vanilla. She wanted to cry a bit.

After drying herself with a clean towel and changing clothes, Bulma joined the group around a large farm-style table. Her mother was shelling peas at the sink, laughing with Ox and a small boy. Goku and Tien were talking in hushed whispers by a boarded window in the sitting area.

Bulma's hair was still wet and for the first time in weeks she felt… clean. Rested. At peace.

The blonde woman was seated at the table, her rifle propped against the chair at her left. Bulma realized she hadn't yet learned her name. Though everyone else seemed to trust them, she was smart enough to realize that friends didn't come easily. Not anymore.

In a world where supplies were hard to come by, it wasn't easy to be too trusting. Bulma's mother announced that dinner was ready, and the group of eight sat around the table, eating a hot meal. Goku devoured more than his portion, but no one seemed to mind.

"How's the road?" Ox asked.

Bulma's fork hovered a few inches from her lips. Had Ox really not been out of his cabin in weeks? "The road is… about as bad as you'd expect. We haven't seen a friendly face since we left West City."

"Where were you heading?" Tien asked.

Bulma and Goku exchange a glance. They hadn't given her a reason not to trust them. In fact, they could, and probably should, have left them locked on the other side of that iron gate. Bulma swallowed a mouthful of food before replying,

"There's an island we know about. It's isolated, the inhabitants are friendly. It should be safe. All we know about the pandemic is that it seems to have started in the mountains, and it's transferred by the exchange of bodily fluids. Blood or saliva through a Lurker biting you, usually. Beyond that, we're just guessing."

"I don't care how it starts," the blonde said. "All I want to know is how to stop it."

"My father was called to the CDC. They're stationed near the coast, on the way to the island. I don't know if they're still working, but if they are they've got to be close to finding a cure. Or at least a vaccine or… something." Her father was brilliant. He'd never come across a problem he couldn't solve, an issue he couldn't fix. Despite all his faults, Dr. Breif was certainly capable.

"What about the brain?" Chichi asked.

Goku frowned. "What about it?"

"Well, it seems to be concentrated in the brain. Damaging their heads seems to be the only way to stop them."

"Yeah. It's like they're able to be reanimated by something in the brain. So the remedy should be chemical. But I think on an island, with its inhabitants isolated, it should be untouched. It's lovely here, and safe for the time being, but it wouldn't be as safe as, say… an island."

"No. It's plenty safe here," the blonde said.

Ox smiled affably. "What Lunch means is, we've had a good run here. It's protected. We don't want to risk ourselves out on the road."

Bulma and Goku exchanged a nod.

"Well, we don't have to decide anything tonight," Mrs. Briefs said. "Stop talking about death and brains and enjoy your dinners."


	8. 18

8.

With a single motion, 17 unfurled the sleeping bag on the damp grass. Little beads of dew clung to the black material but he didn't care. Sleep was in his near future and he was unable to think beyond that. His sister sat a few yards away, elbows resting on bent knees. She had her crossbow propped against her side and a perturbed look etched on her features. 18 had never been a sunny person, but given the recent turn of events she'd settled into a perpetual state of irritation.

17 burrowed into the flannel sleeping bag, settling his arms behind his head. When he closed his eyes, blocking out the canopy of too-bright stars, he tried and failed to turn off the world around him. Every noise snapped his muscles to attention. The cracking of a branch. The hum of a distant cicada. His sister cocking her bow, rustling her arrows.

After what felt like a century, he succumbed to sleep, only to have his eyes snap open at the sound of 18's voice.

"Up," she hissed.

One eye cracked open. What it his shift already? He frowned. And then his eyes slowly began to adjust to the dark. His ears, however, didn't have to catch up.

Walkers.

He knew the gurgling moan anywhere. 17 was on his feet, knife in hand, sleep forgotten.

"There're too many of them," his sister murmured. Her crossbow was steady, her eyes a steely blue. They took a few tandem steps backward. But they were swamped.

"We're going to have to make a run for it."

She nodded. And without another word, they were on foot. Steady, pounding footsteps on damp leaves. Each time 18 turned, it seemed the horde was growing. They didn't talk. Didn't make eye contact. Just pushed forward. Prolonging death.

Her legs burned. Her neck slick and cool with sweat. The bow was heavy, and each time she chanced a glance back the Walkers seemed closer. There were only eight arrows left in her satchel; she'd only lost two in the weeks since the plague had spread. However, if she shot now there was no turning back. No retrieving any arrow, there were too many of them. If she shot she'd be left without a weapon. Defenseless. The sweat broke out on her upper lip, the tang of salt heavy on her tongue.

And then up ahead she spotted a cabin. She looked to 17 for the first time and they exchanged a nod.

The cabin door opened easily enough. 17 leaned his body weight against the door, but the horde of Walkers pressed against the thick wood.

"I can't hold them off forever…"

18 glanced around the cabin. Looking for something, anything. She'd never seen so many Walkers in one go. They were…

"18. What the fuck are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know." She looked to the back exit. "We could try… slipping out."

He shot her an impassive glare.

She frowned. "Got a better idea?"

After a moment's pause, 17 inclined his head towards the rear door. Bow in hand, ready, she padded across the creaky wood floor. When she was a few feet away, the door swung open and three figures entered.

She shot the first in the head, but he dodged with a curse. 18 froze. 17 froze. The hulking man with wild, raven hair froze.

Man. Her heartbeat picked up a notch. Man. Not Walker. Not flesh-eating, death moaning Walker, but a man.

"What the fuck," the stranger shouted, his eyes flashing from her shocked features to the arrow now lodged in the cabin door.

"How many are that way?" 17 asked, his back was firm against the front door. The Walkers were clunky, no good at opening doors.

"At least two dozen, maybe three," one of the men replied. It wasn't the big one with the crazy hair, though. He was busy alternating his glare between 18 and the arrow protruding from the cabin wall.

17 sighed. "We've got at least that many this way."

"Dammit," one of the men snapped.

And so, begrudgingly, the five moved in quiet peace. The large, bald one helped 18 bolt the door. The short angriest looking one patrolled the perimeter. The only windows were high, too high for Walkers to climb. 17 held the second door closed with his back while the big one his sister had almost shot secured it.

Then they waited. In silence, listening to the thumping and the gurgling going on outside. Their scent wasn't as strong and Walkers were dumb as rocks, basal instincts with no memory. Members of the horde began to disperse. Some still tumped and knocked against the wooden cabin, fingernails digging into pine, searching for purchase.

The night was long. 18 didn't like hiding out, being holed up in the stuffy box. She and her brother always slept in the open, outside and in shifts. And these newcomers made her… uncomfortable.

"Hey blondy," the thick bald one said. One of his brows was cocked, a smile marred his features. "What's your name?"

Instead of answering, she glared. Hard.

The bald man laughed. "I'm not gonna bite, sweetheart."

"Shut up, Nappa," the equally burly man cut in. Though his smile was a touch kinder. 18 turned her glare on him, too. He was something, though, she had to admit. No one had dogged an arrow from her in, well, she couldn't think of a time. "I'm Raditz," he said.

18 didn't move her glare. "And the short one?"

The one who introduced himself as Raditz stilled. With an uncertain glance, he turned to the dark haired man still patrolling the cabin, moving methodically, looking for a weakness. When he didn't seem to paying them any attention, Raditz said,

"He's Vegeta."

"Your leader," 18 said.

"Of sorts."

Once again silence engulfed the interior of the cabin. Outdoors, the thumping of things in the night never settled.

"By morning we should be able to exit and take care of the Walkers left," Vegeta said, his voice cutting through the quiet.

17 nodded at the other man. "A few dozen Walkers in the light of day shouldn't be an issue."

Vegeta only frowned and made his way to one corner of the cabin, resting his back against the wall and crossing his arms. It didn't escape 18 that he was the only person with a gun. And a semiautomatic rifle at that. Her bow was good against Walkers, but she didn't want to go toe-to-toe against him. Not now.

"So." Raditz was once again watching her with a wolfish grin. "Your names?"

"17 and 18."

He blinked.

18 shrugged. "Our father was… eccentric."

"Insane," 17 offered.

"Probably, but he was also prepared." In fact, he'd thought there was going to be some sort of nuclear fallout. He'd taken extra measures to keep his children prepared. Well versed in weapons and martial arts. Instilling in them preparedness of the inevitable. Everyone had thought him crazed. If by some miracle he was still out there, he was probably boasting.

She and 17 took the corner opposite the three strangers. 17 laid down and took his sleeping shift sans cozy sleeping bag while his sister sat cross legged on the floor, eyes closed but listening to the hushed whispers of the trio of men across the room.

"What're we going to do about the wonder twins?" Nappa asked.

Obviously he was talking to Vegeta, who didn't respond. Not wanting to cock open an eye, 18 figured he'd probably only shrugged. Maybe he was smarter than his counterparts. Surely he knew she could hear them...

WIth a bit of urgency, Raditz said, "We can team up. They're obviously capable if they've made it this far."

"Nonsense. We set out for weapons and lookie there, the girl has a weapon. Her brother probably does too."

Finally 18 cocked open an eye. From across the room, Vegeta's dark gaze was focused on her. Even though he could see her watching him, he said,

"We can use them in the morning to take out the Walkers outside. Afterwards, I'll decide what to do with them."


	9. Chichi

Her farmhouse was starting to feel… crowded.

But it was a good thing, she reminded herself. Before it had been just herself and her father. For weeks they'd stayed holed up together, alone, surviving on canned food, squash and radishes from the garden and eggs from the hens they kept in the roost.

Before it had been boring. Now, it was anything but.

Bulma was bossy. She'd appointed herself leader and felt the need to berate everyone. Constantly. Lunch seemed one short fuse away from offing her. Tien spent his time divided between making sure Lunch only killed Biters and making sure Chiaotzu was alright. Chiaotzu, of course, was always alright. He smiled and ran around the garden, chasing crows and making Mrs. Brief laugh. Mrs. Brief well… her elevator didn't seem to go all the way to the top floor.

Then there was her father, who was perfectly relaxed even though that they'd gone from rationing their food from 2 to 8 in a matter of days. Her dad who laughed over dinner and constantly reminded her that things weren't so bad after all.

And, finally, there was Goku.

Goku. Probably not as dumb as Mrs. Brief. Probably not as childish as Chiaotzu who was, she reminded herself, an actual child. But he was precise and kind and sure. They'd gone to fetch eggs together that morning and two Biters had gotten into the coop. She'd set some traps early on when the Biting plague began, but Goku had taken care of them effortlessly. And with a shovel no less.

She pretended that she hadn't noticed the way his muscles bunched, the way his hair looked oddly soft for the way it held itself up.

"You okay?" Goku asked.

Chichi nodded, a bit harshly. "Yep. Yeah. Yep. Totally."

He scratched his scalp. "Uh… Are you sure? You look a little strange."

"Thanks," she grumbled.

Goku went back to dragging one of the lifeless Biter corpses by the leg. There was a burn pile off to one corner of the property only a few acres away. It was a short walk and her boots dug into the damp earth. It had rained recently and everything was coated with a layer of moisture.

Changing the subject, Chichi said, "I still don't understand how these got in."

"I'll go and check the fence this afternoon. Maybe there's a breech."

She nodded. One of the arms fell off the Biter and, scrunching her nose, she plucked the limb off the ground and followed Goku towards the burn pile.

"Maybe," she agreed. "Or maybe they climbed it. Or crawled under it."

"I haven't seen a Lurker crawl or climb."

"Doesn't mean they couldn't."

He exhaled through his nose and nodded. Then, with the ease of one of those buff Olympic discus throwers he tossed the Biter onto the charred pile. Chichi lobbed the arm into the stack as well, and watched as Goku started up a flame.

"I'm glad you guys are here," she heard herself saying.

Goku turned to her and smiled. It was a bit of a goofy smile, but it made her ovaries sing. It's just because you don't know any other guys besides Tien - bald and too serious - and your father, she reminded herself. Goku got to his feet, his biceps flexing beneath his soft cotton shirt. She looked away. Quickly.

Thankfully Goku seemed clueless to her thoughts. Chichi dusted off her jeans and scampered away from the pile of burning Biters. Sure, she'd been raised on a farm and little of the blood-and-guts variety phased her. But something about the armless thing who used to a be a person gave her the creeps.

When the pair made it back to the farmhouse, Mrs. Brief was teaching her father needlepoint. Chiaotzu and Tien were playing cards on the floor. Bulma was sprawled out on the sofa, fanning herself.

"Where's Lunch?" Goku asked. Chichi tried not to flare with jealousy.

"Up on the roof, playing lookout," Tien responded. "Go fish," he told the boy, who eagerly grabbed a card.

Bulma looked towards the pair and frowned. "Where have you two been?"

"A couple Lurkers got near the chicken coop."

"What?" Bulma pulled herself into a sitting position. Her brow creased with concern. "How? I thought this place was secure."

"It is," Chichi replied. "But occasionally a Biter or two gets in. I have some traps set, and we haven't had one get near the house."

"Yet." Bulma looked to Goku. "I'll go check the perimeter."

"Yeah. I'll come along."

Chichi watched them go, biting her lips together. It was difficult to resent Bulma, of course. She was in the same predicament. They were fishing from same nearly empty pool of eligible men. And, yeah, Bulma had the advantage of being gorgeous and older - probably mid-twenties - and of knowing Goku from Before.

"Chichi, you coming too?" Bulma asked as she pulled on her jacket by the door. Chichi stilled. There wasn't an ounce of competitive malice in her voice.

"Uh." She blinked. "Yeah. I'll show you where they might be getting in."


	10. Raditz

The moment day broke, they waited for Vegeta's signal. The twins were reluctant to receive orders, but after lots of glaring at one another they eventually agreed. The threat of being ripped apart by Walkers would do that to a person.

Raditz pressed his back against the wall near the back door. His machete in hand. The male twin - one of the numbers, he couldn't remember which - stood with Nappa on the opposite side of the doorframe. Since the three were only equipped with melee weaponry, they were to take the rear. Vegeta with his gun and the female twin with the bow were to go first and try and clear the nearest Walkers first.

It was a solid plan. But he wasn't surprised. Vegeta was full of them.

Raditz turned to Vegeta to find the other man clicking a full magazine into this GSG 522. When Vegeta lifted his head, eyes narrowed and snarl firm, he gave a quick nod. Just the slightest lift of his jaw, but Raditz and Nappa read the movement well enough.

Nappa sprung to the ready, knocking off the meagre bolt and bursting open the door. Sunlight flooded the cabin, and though a few Walkers were knocked over by the force of the door the front line was quickly replaced.

Raditz's eyes flicked around the yard. Nineteen, maybe twenty Walkers remained. Nothing compared to the horde that had chased them and cornered them the night before.

The number quickly declined as Vegeta popped off his first shot. The girl quickly followed suit, expertly lodging an arrow into a Walker's skull. She raced forward and pulled her arrow from the dead Walker, and when two more approached she jammed the arrow into one's brain stem, using the bolt as a knife.

Raditz smirked as he watched her, before turning away and taking care of the Walkers approaching. Machete in hand, he sliced off the first one's head. It was a disgusting little bastard wearing a three-piece suit. He always wondered about their backstories. What they'd been like Before. How they'd fallen prey to the pandemic. How he was really doing them a favor decapitating them.

Three more were on him. Teeth snapping, lifeless bloodshot eyes rolling back. Their cheeks sunken, their skin sallow.

"Hn," Raditz snorted, delivering the first Walker a kick the the abdomen. It sailed backwards and took a few pathetic attempts to get back to its feet. A woman with a blonde ponytail came at him next. Very soccer mom looking. He swung his machete in an arch, rendering her motionless. Then he took to the second who was still scrambling to its feet.

When he looked up, the male twin was panting. Blood smeared across his face. His sister was retrieving the last of her arrows from the pile of corpses that surrounded them. Nappa was the only one still engaged, chuckling maliciously as a Walker stumbled in his direction. Stupid fuck. Nappa had cut off both the Walker's arms and was taunting the thing.

Vegeta snarled and shot it through the skull. Nappa frowned.

"C'mon Vegeta. I was just having a little fun."

Since nothing much had changed with their dynamic from Before, Vegeta ignored the older man and turned to Raditz. He straightened to attention. Vegeta had only been one rank above them in the military, but he'd always been their leader. When he'd found the pair in Central City after the initial breakout, he'd been rather levelheaded about the whole thing.

"Figure out what you're going to do with us?" the female twin said, her voice cold and glare like ice. Frigid little thing, Raditz decided.

Vegeta didn't look at her, his eyes moving over the pile of dead Walkers instead. One side of his mouth pulled to a smirk before it was gone and replaced with the stoic mask he usually wore. Raditz straightened. It would be a shame if Vegeta shot her then. He was starved for company. Any company. Nappa was an idiot and Vegeta never spoke. Plus, the blonde was pretty hot. And not just by there-aren't-any-other-chicks-around hot.

Vegeta held his gun at his side. "You two might be useful."

"Useful?" she asked, cocking a brow.

Vegeta's eyes were on her then. And Raditz almost laughed. The stupid bitch didn't even look intimidated.

"Yes," Vegeta replied. Monotone. Callous. "Useful."

And though her lips pursed and something venomous seemed to burn on the tip of her tongue, she remained silent.

When she rested her cross bow on its shoulder strap, she must've felt Raditz's eyes on her because she looked at him then. He shot her a wolfish grin and her brows narrowed. He winked and she rolled her eyes.

Vegeta might've thought she was useful, but Raditz knew she'd at least be good for a little fun.


	11. Lunch

The sun had begun its descent, illuminating the wheat fields in vibrant red. She sat on the roof, one ankle tucked beneath the other, her rifle sat at her side. The crops stretched in the distance. Chickens heckled from their place in the coop. The breeze touched her face and she inhaled. It didn't even smell like rotting flesh and decay and spoiled food and…

The window behind her opened she turned, not surprised to find Tien hunching to get through the dormered window. He was the only one who talked to her these days. She'd been a loner before and now, suddenly the words was ending and she found herself with a sidekick.

"You didn't come to dinner," Tien said in lieu of greeting.

Lunch exhaled through her nose. Not wanting to see the look in Tien's eyes - it was always like he was trying to coax her into seeing things his way - she turned back to the wheat fields. Crops and chickens, this place was sustainable. Obviously not infallible, what with the breech from a few days ago when a Walker had broken in and gotten in, but it would do.

"We could take this place."

She knew he was frowning now. Judging her, being unhappy that she wasn't all trusting rays of sunshine. But she knew what she'd said was true. They had more guns. They could run them off, have this place to themselves. Or herself, if she would start thinking straight.

"What?" she said, turning to look at him. The frown was there. That look of concern flashing in his eyes. "Were you a saint before the turn? Because I wasn't. And I sure as hell am not one now."

"No." And Lunch noted the way he smiled ruefully and turned away from her. Huh. So Tien, protector of small boys and unsuspecting women, hadn't been of the saint variety Before. Interesting.

"What were you then?"

He sighed. "An assassin."

She laughed. Looked at him, and then her jaw fell slack. "You're serious?"

Tien nodded. "And you? I'm guessing you weren't a pediatric nurse and part-time volunteer at the animal shelter."

"I was bank robber."

Silence settled between them. Tien looked out at the fields and Lunch looked at him.

"I guess the good ones rarely make it," he said.

"Nah. We just knew how to handle weapons when our friends and coworkers and families starting attacking. We just learned how to stop giving a shit. That kind of stuff helps."

Tien laughed. "I doubt the farmer and his daughter were murderers and pillagers before the turn."

She stretched out her legs and leaned back, soaking in the last minutes of daylight. "And the blue haired one?"

"Bulma?"

Lunch grinned. "Bulma Brief. Heiress billionaire, Capsule Corp tycoon."

"No shit?" His eyes were wide with surprise.

"No shit," Lunch repeated, the shadow of a smile tugging at her lips. "Just think. If I'd met her two months ago I would've tried holding her for ransom."

"We're not taking over. These are nice people."

Lunch pursed her lips. "They aren't our people."

"Do you have 'people?'" he asked.

Instead of answering, Lunch got to her feet. Then she bent to retrieve her gun and caught sight of the trees shaking in the distance. Slowly, she raised her rifle, squinting one eye and using the other to look through the scope.

On the edges of Ox's land the dense forest trembled.

"Shit," she cursed. "Biters."

Tien was on his feet, too. Without a scope he could see the tremor in the forest, but he couldn't see the detail Lunch was viewing.

"It's a horde," she explained.

"A… horde? They're usually stagnant. What're they doing, traveling in a group?"

"I don't know." She lowered her weapon and started towards the open window. "We have to go."

"We," Tien said, and she turned on him with a frown. "As in.. all of us? Wow. Look at you, growing a heart."

"Not now."

And then he was following her out the window. Climbing down the stairs and racing into the living area. Mrs. Brief was washing dishes. Bulma was cleaning her gun at the table. Goku and Chiaotzu were doing jumping jacks in the living room. Tien looked around.

"Where're Chichi and Ox?"

"They went to check the traps. What's wrong?" Bulma asked. She was standing now, her lever-action shotgun clenched in one pale hand. Blue eyes darting back and forth between the pair.

"Biters. Lots of them, heading this way."

Bulma turned to the window. At the sight of the Lurkers leaving the confines of the dense foliage, her lips parted. It was a terrifying site. One that took even her brain a few moments to process. "That's… impossible."

"There're at least 40, 50 of them," Goku said, scrambling away from the window and grabbing his shovel. Lunch frowned. She wasn't sure what a lousy shovel was supposed to do against the group closing in on their safe house. There were too many.

"We can't run. We're safe here. We'll just… stay inside. Stay upstairs, so they can't get us."

Bulma was shaking her head before her mother was done talking. "No. There are too many of them. Even on the roof… I don't think…" She turned to Tien. "We'd never make it."

He nodded. "We have to go."

Mrs. Brief started loading a plastic grocery bag with canned food and Bulma tossed her backpack over her shoulder before fishing her screwdriver from the front pocket. Then she retrieved the keys hanging near the back door. She'd had a talk with Ox about his rusty pickup truck and he assured her there was plenty of gas in case of an emergency. And Bulma was smart; she always planned for the worst. Especially now. Being comfortable wasn't an option.

"I'll go get Chichi and Ox," Goku said. "We'll meet by the cars."

"I'm coming with you," Tien said, grabbing his gun and following Goku to the car. Bulma tossed Lunch the keys to Ox's truck.

"Mom and I will go start the jeep. Chiaotzu, are you coming?"

The boy nodded and quickly followed Bulma and Mrs. Breif out the back door. Tien watched them go, an uneasy expression settling on his features. When he glanced at Lunch, she gave him a comforting smile.

"He'll be okay." She didn't make any promises about the rest of them, though. Then she was gone, racing to the pickup and starting the engine. She didn't leave. Just sat in the cab and looked at him.

She could've been gone already, but she wasn't. Tien exhaled.

The horde was closing in on the iron fence.

"It'll take a few minutes for them to break through," he said, and was surprised by the serious expression on Goku's features. Tien had only ever seen Goku be well, silly. Running around the radish fields with Chiaotzu and being clueless about the longing looks the farmer's daughter was always shooting him.

Tien shook his head and followed this serious version of Goku to the back of the field.

"Chichi," Goku called, and the dark haired woman looked up. A smile on her features.

"Hey! What're you guys…" She frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Lurkers."

"Inside again?"

Goku shook his head and Tien turned, glancing back at the fence on the east edge of the property. The Lurkers were fanning out, pressing against the iron fence, causing it to sway. When he turned back, Chichi was watching the horde in horror.

"Let's go."

The four moved back towards the farmhouse where two vehicles were waiting to take them to safety. It was so close, but the distance felt impossibly far.

Chichi watched in horror as the iron bars caved and the horde descended upon the farm. A mass stopped at the chicken coop, and her throat went dry. Goku turned around and grabbed for her hand.

"Don't look," he said. "Just run."

Don't look. Just run. She repeated over and over, again and again, trying not to think of anything else.

And then they were behind them. Their snarls loud. Their moans filling the serene silence of her farm, her home. She raced quickly, feet flying over the damp earth. Thumping against the solid ground. Her lungs burning. The sun had nearly set and it was difficult to see. It was…

Her foot snagged something and she fell, face first. The tang of copper coated her tongue. Her lip split, her face pounding.

"Chichi," she heard her father say. She glanced up. Goku was skidding to a stop, Tien just a few yards ahead. When she turned, nearly ten Walkers were closing in on her. Her ankle burned as she scooted backwards, trying to get further out of their reach.

"Go," she shouted, but wasn't surprised when Tien lifted his handgun and popped off four shots. The closest Walkers fell. Goku was near too, moving fast. Expertly wielding his shovel, smashing Walkers, alternating between the sharp and blunt end of the tool. Blood spurted and dotted his face. But he kept moving, kept whacking.

Chichi stumbled to her feet, and with shaking hands reached for the pistol she always kept on her hip.

"Move back," Tien called. He was reloading his own gun, walking backwards. Chichi took two shaky steps back. Goku panted and looked at her.

"You alright?"

She nodded, but turned quickly. The Walkers were still approaching. When one fell it seemed two more took their place. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears, hummingbird quick.

There were too many. There was nowhere to go.

Her father was holding his shotgun. It was only a double barrel. He shot one spray and then another, and then had to retrieve another pair of shells from his bag. Chichi raced to his side. He was panting, his hands shaking and slick with sweat. One of his shells slipped from his grasp and Chichi bent to retrieve it.

"Go," he whispered.

She shook her head. "No."

"Go," he repeated. "You have to run."

"I'm not leaving you." She tugged his arm, and raised her pistol, taking out the approaching Walkers. When she turned, Goku and Tien were still fending off the horde. It was too much. They weren't going to make it. She took out another Walker, now just faceless corpse in the fading light.

There were too many. She raced forward, but her father was slower. A few paces behind, still trying to load his weapon.

"I love you," Ox said and she stopped. "You're a strong girl, Chichi. You'll do fine. Stay with Goku. He'll keep you safe."

"Daddy!"

And then he was falling to his knees, a Walker's nails grabbing at his legs. Ox winced as the Walker sunk its teeth into the flesh of his calf.

"No!" Chichi screamed.

A pair of vice-like hands were around her middle. Picking her up, carrying her away. She thrashed against the arms. Kicked her feet. Tears blurred her vision and the edges of her periphery darkened, like a slow-moving train headed towards a tunnel.

Tien raised his gun and shot Ox, effectively putting him out of his misery. There were too many Walkers descending upon him now. Dropping to their knees and feasting on his hefty carcass. Chichi sobbed. Goku pressed on, carrying her away, towards the pair of running vehicles. He tossed her in the backseat of the pickup truck and slid in beside her.

"Go," Goku commanded.

Beside their parked truck, Tien hopped in the jeep and Bulma slammed her foot on the gas before he'd even closed the door.

Lunch followed quickly, chancing a glimpse in the rearview. The farm was overrun. Dozens of Walkers dotted every inch of the property. A few followed the pair of vehicles, but they were too slow. They'd lost the horde by the time they hit the main road.

Chichi sobbed. A loud, unrelenting choking sound that rocked the inside of the cab. Goku held her close.

"Christ," Lunch growled, her eyes snapping back to the road. "Someone get her to shut up."

Goku ignored her. Stroked her hair. Whispered meaningless assurances to deaf ears. It felt a bit like his heart was being crushed, too. He remembered returning from the dojo that day, only to find Grandpa Gohan… different. Sallow skin. Inhuman growl. His guardian and best friend attacked him, and he'd had to… well, he didn't want to think about what he'd done.

Goku looked ahead to see the ratty jeep carrying Bulma, Tien, Chiaotzu and Mrs. Brief. In the front seat, Lunch drove. The empty spot next to her was intended for Ox. In the backseat, Chichi shook. He didn't know what to do, so he held her a little tighter.


	12. Tien

Driving was… nice. Easy. Safe.

Sure, they hit the occasional roadblock or two. Wreckage sprawled out, blocking the roadways was the most common reason for Bulma commanding the group to stop.

They stopped twice a day to stretch and eat. Tien sighed, already missing the farm fresh food Mrs. Brief prepared. Stale protein bars and water filtered from his canteen was hardly the breakfast, lunch and dinner of champions.

But it seemed to be that of the living, so he ate without audible complaint. Mrs. Brief's occasional comment about looking for another place with a kitchen cut through the silence. Usually, Bulma just frowned and chewed on her own 1,000 calorie brick. Sometimes she would calmly explain that they were going to the coast. To the island where Goku's martial arts trainer resided. An island they had no proof was untouched by this plague.

Although, Bulma had a point. Even if its inhabitants had Turned, it would be easy to wipe them out and take the island for themselves. It would be good, settling down again. Chiaotzu needed something stable. Tien had allowed himself to think for a few moments that they'd been safe on the farm, but it was too open, too exposed. Whatever it was that triggered hordes of Biters - maybe a flock of animals or the sound of something in the distance or a passing helicopter or plane, if there were any of those still flying - it meant they'd never be safe on the mainland.

And he was content to stick with Bulma and Goku. Bulma was smart and savvy. She had an air of importance about her, a good head on her shoulders even if she tended to be a bit of a bitch about it. Goku, however, was the real reason he wanted to remain with this particular group.

He was strong, uncanningly good at taking out Walkers. The best in the group, hands down. Given that he'd had martial arts experience, it shouldn't have come as much a surprise. But even with Lunch's skill with a pistol and his own past as an assassin, they still had nothing on Goku.

Tien had watched, dumbfounded, as a group of seven Biters dragged themselves in their direction. Goku had taken them each out, single handedly, with nothing more than bare fists and a shovel.

"You okay?" Lunch asked, kneeling to his side. Tien shrugged in reply. He tossed his empty wrapper onto the grass. Littering wouldn't do any damage to the world now.

When he looked over, Bulma was helping Chiaotzu with his water filter. When Tien glanced back at Lunch, he frowned.

"I like these people."

She lifted a brow. Her face was smudged with dirt, her clothes dingy. "O-kay."

"I don't want you to mess this up. Chiaotzu needs this."

Lunch nodded, looking at the boy and exhaling through her nose. "Fine. I won't shoot Bulma or Chichi or anyone. Even if they're asking for it."

"Good."

Lunch got to her feet. "Good then. Let's go."

Once back in the vehicles, Tien slid into the passenger's seat. Chiaotzu and Mrs. Brief nestled into the bench seat behind him. Lunch, Goku and Chichi took the pickup truck; he could already hear its hearty engine rumbling to life.

"Shit," Bulma cursed. He didn't have to ask what it was. The look on her face spoke volumes.

"How low?" he asked, keeping his voice quiet. Not that Chiaotzu or Mrs. Breif would clue into the impact of his works anyway.

Bulma bit her lip. "Pretty low. We'll make it another 45, maybe 50 miles tops."

He glanced at the map. That would put them in the outskirts of a small mountain city. Not anywhere near the coast.

"Just keep your eyes peeled for another car. Something sturdy or at least fuel efficient. These roads have been traveled on; I doubt we'll find any fuel to syphon but maybe…"

Tien nodded. "We'll go as far as we can manage."

So they drove. Bulma tried to keep her speed consistent. To coast whenever possible until the jeep sputtered to a stop.

"I guess this is it," she whispered. She put on a brave face but Tien didn't miss the way her hands shook. Up ahead, the pickup slowed to a stop. Lunch hopped out first, followed by its other passengers. Chichi raised her gun, but no Biters lunged out of the woods.

"We're out of fuel."

Lunch replied, "The truck only has 15 or so miles left. Some of us can sit in back until..."

Until they had to continue on foot. And so they made quick work of it, stretching the last few miles with the sun still high in the sky before they set out on foot. Bulma gripped her map like a lifeline, but there wasn't another town for another few miles yet. She hated walking in the open, but it was a bit more comforting in a larger group.

Their labored breathing and dull footsteps filled the silence. By the time they hit Mountain Pass City, it was sprinkling. Her clothes damp, her map rolled safely into her pack, Bulma clutched her shotgun and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Maybe we should find a safe place for tonight. We can find some cars in the morning."

Mountain Pass City was just a roadstop. A single fuel station that was deserted, its convenience store picked through. Goku and Lunch took out the pair of Walkers inside, but it didn't seem to matter. They'd be surviving on rationed protein bars another day at least. Tien felt a stone settle low in his belly. Chiaotzu smiled tightly at him and stuffed a lighter in his pack.

When the group opened the door, they froze.

Two men stood, one wielding a knife the other a hatchet.

"Don't shoot," one said, raising his hands in surrender. He was tall and waifish, shoulder-length hair tied at the nape of his neck. Despite his companion's surrender, the other man didn't budge. Hatchet still in hand, glare etched on his features.

"We don't want any trouble," Goku said, voice affable. Smile dazzling. Though Tien caught a slight, untrusting edge in his eyes. "We aren't Lurkers. We aren't the enemy. We're just passing through."

"Then keep walking," the bald one with the hatchet growled.

Some of the group was already turning when Goku tilted his head to one side, squinted, and laughed. "Hey, I know you."

The pair of strangers exchanged a look.

"Nappa," Goku said. "You're Nappa. You served with my brother. I had your picture sitting by my bedside, the one of his squad on his first tour. Raditz sent it to me, and I always thought you looked a bit constipated."

The bald one - Nappa, apparently - lowered his machete.

"Holy shit. Raditz is sure going to be glad to see you."

Goku blinked. "You're with Raditz?"

Nappa nodded. "This here is, uh - 17 or 18."

"17," he deadpanned.

"We've got a place set up for the night near the pass." Then his eyes darted from Raditz's brother to a petite Asian girl in painted on jeans, a blue haired woman with come-hither cleavage, a blonde who looked ready to cut off his dick where he stood - he ignored that one, they had one of those back at the safehouse - and finally to another lady, older than the rest, the definition of MILF.

He grinned at the latter and she gave a girlish giggle.

"Do you boys have a stove? I've got a pack full of snap peas and rice, and I'd love to cook something."

Bulma rolled her eyes and followed the group towards the supposedly safe house. If Goku trusted these men, she'd try to as well.

She met Tien's eyes and he frowned. Nappa didn't seem the kind of guy to shit rainbows. Certainly more the type to murder you in your sleep for your gun. She didn't miss that he was only carrying a hatchet. Lunch, on the other hand, had a pack full of guns and ammo. It wasn't a position Bulma was eager to put herself in. She glanced at Chiaotzu, the small, pale boy walking beside Goku. Then she turned to her mother who was prattling on about her sore ankles and how she'd positively kill for a hot bath.

"There's strength in numbers," Tien said. Bulma thought he was trying to convince her. More likely, however, he was attempting to convince himself.


	13. Goku

Their safehouse was a sturdy stone structure situated on a cliff. Mountain Pass City wasn't a large town by any means, but there was a splattering of houses and the occasional overall-wearing Lurker. Nappa set the pace, moving quickly through the valley. Goku was at his heels, shovel swinging at his side. He was more than slightly eager to see his brother again, but that didn't keep him from turning ever so often to check on his group.

Bulma was a few paces behind him. He didn't miss the hard, untrusting look in her eyes. Mrs. Brief, Chichi and Tien walked in tandem at her side. Chiaotzu just a few paces back, struggling to keep up with Nappa's gait. Briefly, Goku wondered what his brother would think of their group, traveling with a child. He knew Radtiz was a good person, deep down, but it was sometimes hard to see it through all that hair and muscle and personality. He might think traveling with a kid was liability. Goku would make sure that his brother would understand. He'd have to.

Children are our future Bulma had told him, when they'd been back at Ox's farm house. Goku just thought keeping kids alive was the decent thing to do.

He turned back to check once more. Lunch took the rear, gun in hand, frown in place. At her side was 17. He didn't seem all that convinced about their ragtag group, either. Making friends in this new world was difficult. Goku knew he'd have to be extra friendly if he wanted to win these people over.

They climbed the hill up to the stone two-story. Three figures were outside waiting on them. They must've seen the large party approaching from the distance and were now on guard. Despite the way he'd been looking ready for battle, Raditz relaxed the moment they came close enough to make out. Racing forward, he threw his arms around his brother.

Goku grinned into his brother's wild mane. Raditz could definitely use a bath. Both men could use a good night's rest. Goku clasped his arm behind Raditz's back and Raditz laughed.

Despite Goku's heartfelt reunion, Bulma braced herself. 17 took place beside an obvious relation of his. She had a harsh glare and an unforgiving frown. Her t-shirt was ripped below her right breast, revealing a stomach that had Bulma sucking in a fraction. Sure, Bulma considered herself a hottie, but she didn't have abs. Bulma glanced away quickly from the cross-bow wielding Wonder Woman. On the corner of the stone porch stood the final member of Raditz's group. His eyes were trained on Raditz and Goku, as though he hadn't noticed the crowd of misfits. As much as Bulma didn't want to admit, they were a bit off kilter as a whole. While Radtiz's group appeared strong, she looked around at and took stock of her flighty mother, the sheltered farm girl, a little boy, a bipolar woman with more guns than patience, and herself - quick on her feet and too smart for her own good, but she was still figuring out how to load her weapon. Still adjusting to this insane way of life. And she didn't have rock hard abs...

At least Tien and Goku appeared strong. Capable. She straightened her shoulders and channeled some of her signature confidence.

"Holy shit. It's Bulma with a gun," Raditz called, pulling away from his brother and grinning at her. She'd always thought they were acquaintances at best. Sure, she and Goku had been childhood friends, despite the fact that she was closer in age with Raditz. But Goku had adored running around the woods with her, hunting for gold and treasure. Trying to read cryptic maps her father would leave them in his workshop. Raditz had chased the girls in her class, took her best friend's virginity and joined the military the day he'd turned 18.

But even though he'd never touched her until then, Raditz enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug and she stood there with her arms at her side. Smile in place, she said,

"It's good to see you." Because it kind of was. Despite the fact that his group was on the intimidating side, the more able-bodied persons the better. Especially people she'd known of Before. People who most likely wouldn't slit her throat in her sleep.

Raditz turned to the man on the porch. He was standing near the railing, and his eyes were on the pair. His gaze was cool and unflinching. His stance casual, as though they weren't a threat. Bulma felt her heart thrumming against her ribcage.

"Vegeta, this is my brother and his friend."

The man, Vegeta, glanced behind them. For a moment, his lips flexed to a frown. Taking a few steps forward, Bulma had no doubt he was their leader. He carried himself with an air of importance. He'd obviously done a good job keeping his group in tact, and he wasn't going to take any risks by allowing weak links.

"And the rest of them?"

Raditz scratched the back of his skull. "Well, I don't know them. But…" Raditz's voice trailed and Vegeta arched a challenging brow. When he still didn't reply, Vegeta turned the weight of his stare on Nappa. "I sent you for food. Are we going to eat Raditz's brother?"

"They have food." Nappa grinned. "They offered to cook for us, even."

"Poison us," the blonde woman with all the Abs growled. Her crossbow raised a fraction.

"I don't plan on getting my hands dirty for a bow." Lunch countered.

Bulma smiled. It felt too tight, but it was all she could manage given the circumstances. "It's getting dark. Why don't we finish securing the premises, eat dinner, and then we can talk. It's been a long day; if we don't agree, we'll go our separate ways in the morning."

"This place is secure," Raditz said.

"What?" Goku craned his neck left than right, confusion evident on his features.

"The windows have been boarded, the back door is secure."

Bulma turned towards the land. The fence surrounding the perimeter was thin, three rows of barbed wire looked ready to stop any Lurkers who might approach them.

"We'll do a sweep. You don't have any traps set," she said.

"Traps?" This from Nappa, who was looking at her curiously.

Bulma turned to Chichi who furrowed her brow. "Yeah. Stakes in the ground, just to stop some of the Walkers who get too close."

Chichi, Goku, Raditz, Tien and Vegeta went to set traps. Well, Goku, Chichi and Tien demonstrated how they set up the discarded branches at an angle, jutting from the rocky earth. They sharpened the edges and explained how Walkers who got through would lodge themselves into the stake. They set a few traps near the gate, where the fence was less secure.

While Chichi explained how they weren't foolproof but it was something, Raditz made comments regarding how it seemed waste of time. Vegeta only frowned, his arms crossed and his glare unrelenting.

Mrs. Brief and Chiaotzu followed Nappa into the kitchen to begin dinner. Bulma exhaled through her nose at the way the bald man hovered over her mother's shoulder, but she was too tired to say anything. Instead, she appointed herself Lunch's baby sitter to make sure she didn't get in a shoot-off with the twins.

Traps set and fence secure, they sat around a large table. A recliner and three metal folding chairs and been dragged into the kitchen, but by the time Mrs. Brief proclaimed dinner ready all 12 members were able to sit together. Their elbows bumped, but it had been ages since any of them had faced a hot meal.

And as they ate, some of the tension seemed to evaporate.

Tien and Lunch discussed weapons with Raditz. Goku kept biting his lip so he didn't reveal that Lunch had a small armory tucked inside her bag. He'd been instructed by Bulma that it wouldn't be wise to give Raditz's friends any reason to think they'd be sweeter for the taking.

Bulma ate in silence. Her mother doing enough talking for all of them. She glanced up to find the twins, 17 and 18, had hardly touched their food. They were smart to be untrusting. However, Nappa, Raditz and Vegeta ate with vigor, almost putting Goku to shame.

It was a shaky alliance, sure, but it was slightly comforting being a part of a larger, stronger group.

"What's your plan?" Raditz asked.

Bulma sat down her utensils. "The coast. You guys?"

"West," Raditz replied. "We heard the cities were safe."

Bulma shook her head. "It isn't. That's where we came from. West City's been leveled. I left CC later than I should've, but when I did, there was nothing left."

Raditz looked to Vegeta, who didn't looked phased. His gaze flickered to Bulma before returning to his food. His eyes were cold and unfeeling, and he didn't seem to have much to say. But he was actually kind of cute, Bulma decided. Good bone structure, nice shoulders, and a general demeanor of badassery. All things she could appreciate. She wondered if he smuggled hair gel into that pack of his, or if he had the same uncanny ability that Goku always managed with his natural gravity-defying spikes.

"What about the military?" Tien asked, speaking up for the first time since instructing Raditz on the proper way to set traps. "Wasn't there a military camp up north?"

"The military is gone," Nappa said, pausing in his devouring of a meal to wink at Mrs. Brief. Bulma suppressed an eye roll.

"We have a place in mind. Kame House." Goku grinned, his eagerness palpable. His brother nodded. They'd both been trained there, and Roshi was a strange sensei but Goku had a point. There was a definite advantage to settling on an island. Hope bubbled low in his stomach.

"That's actually not a bad plan."

"We said we'd talk about this later," Mrs. Brief countered. "Now finish your dinners. If you're good, I've got a little something for dessert."

As instructed, they ate and Mrs. Brief brought out a lumpy cake baked in a cast iron pan. She mentioned, not for the first time, that she hated this primitive cooking, and Bulma wondered if her mother believed that that was honestly the most difficult part of the way things were now.

After dessert, they gathered whatever blankets and pillows and towels they could find from drawers and a stocked linen closet. The stone house was spacious, with three beds upstairs and two sofas downstairs, but it felt crowded with the dozen occupants vying for sleep space.

While they argued, Goku helped Chichi carry the dishes to Mrs. Brief. There was no hot water, but chilly water sprung from the faucet. Most of the homes in these small, mountain towns had wells. They'd get along like they had at the farm house. No hot showers, but with a little flint and creativity they'd manage.

Chichi set a plate beside Mrs. Brief and Goku frowned.

"Why are we cleaning? Aren't we going to be gone tomorrow?"

"Maybe not," Chichi said with a shrug. "Besides, it feels unkind, leaving this place a mess."

Goku thought back to all the stores they'd laid wreckage to. All the vehicles they'd abandoned in the center of the road. A couple of dirty plates hardly seemed to put a dint in the havoc.

Chichi nodded towards Mrs. Brief, who was singing to herself as she eagerly scrubbed a glass.

"I think she likes it. There's a sort of order to it, you know. A routine. A reminder of the way things were."

There were a lot of things Goku missed about Before. Washing dishes wasn't one of them.

From the living room he could hear disagreement about a sleeping bag. At the sink, Mrs. Brief sung a romantic ballad to a plate. When he looked at Chichi, he frowned. She looked… weird. She was smiling at him. A strange smile, not her normal one. Her head was cocked to one side, and she seemed to be trying to tell him something with the way she blinked a bit too rapidly.

"Do you need some air?" he asked.

She flushed. "Oh, that would be great. Let's go."

Since it was potentially dangerous outside and she seemed to think he was coming anyway, Goku followed her out to the porch. She stood a bit closer to him than Bulma or Mrs. Brief did. Maybe that's how people acted when they were raised on farms?

He glanced down at her. Chich was a good deal shorter than himself.

"Thank you for being here, Goku."

He wasn't sure if she meant on the porch or something else entirely, so he scratched the back of his head and said, "You're welcome."

"I'm sorry I'm a mess."

"You have aright to be a mess. Because of your dad." He flinched. It had sounded better in his head. There had even been an apology injected in there somewhere, but it hadn't been articulated. To her credit, Chichi gave a wry smile and shrugged. It was dark out, but he could see the big white part of her eyes go a little glassy.

"It's okay. It was for the best, really. He wasn't meant to live in this world." She leaned into him a bit and Goku leaned away. "He had trouble with the hard stuff, the stuff he didn't agree with. I'd always have to slaughter the pig in the fall because year after year he fell in love with the thing. He was too… nice. Too soft for living like this."

"You're nice," Goku said. And, foolishly, he added, "Soft."

Another splattering of red across Chichi's cheeks and she stepped away from him this time. Goku let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Not really. I never had any trouble killing the pig. It was what needed to be done."

"Kind of like with Lurkers."

She nodded. "Right. It's necessary. It's not fun, but it has to be done."

He didn't know why, but for a moment with her leaning into him and her eyes big and glassy and the moon high in the sky and breeze a bit warm in the mountain pass, Goku thought about kissing her.


	14. Krillin

He pulled open the pantry door and prompted himself not to cringe. Three cans of chunk tuna fish sat scattered on the shelf. There was a half a box of buttery crackers and two tins of corn. Krillin sighed and closed the door. He'd known what was awaiting him, but he felt his stomach sink just the same.

"Well?" a voice asked, and Krillin turned to find Yamcha watching him with an oddly calm expression given their circumstances. It had been weeks since the television broadcasts had come to a crashing halt. Their electricity had cut off a few days later and now water was an issue. On an island surrounded by ocean it seemed silly but somewhere in the back of his mind The Rime of the Ancient Mariner taunted him.

Water, water, every where,

Nor any drop to drink.

"It's bad," Krillin admitted.

Yamcha nodded. "I know. I looked this morning. We have to make a run into town. Who knows, maybe things aren't as bad on the mainland as we think."

Krillin wanted to beat his head against the pantry door. He knew things weren't good, worse than they could imagine, probably, but they'd starve here. Or go stir crazy. Roshi and Oolong were oddly calm about the whole thing, but they'd put Yajirobe on food rations six days ago and panic had set in.

"We need food. Fishing gear, at least. The ocean stocked but we only have one net." Krillin scrubbed a hand over his face. "We could use some extra blankets. Some water filters."

"We'll need weapons."

"In the trunk upstairs," a third voice said. Krillin and Yamcha turned to find Roshi standing in the kitchen. His skin was red and peeling at the nose. They'd spent the last few days taking turns with the fishing net, trying to branch outside of their stash of canned tuna. They had each been wildly unsuccessful. The added sun made the old man more withered and frail than usual. However for someone hunched at the back a bit, he was surprisingly dexterous.

Roshi lead the group up the creaky stairs and to the dusty old trunk in the corner. When he pried back the lid, his students' faces lit up. Yamcha had half expecting porn. What they found was something else entirely. Like eager children, Yamcha and Krillin grabbed for the weapons inside.

"Why didn't you tell us you had this stuff?" Yamcha asked, picking up a katana a holding it up for inspection.

"Your training hadn't progressed beyond hand-to-hand combat," Roshi replied.

Krillin sifted through a satchel containing a total of six throwing stars before retrieving a pair of sai. The weapons boasted three pointed prongs, the longest situated in the middle, the outer prongs curved inwards. The handle was wrapped with butter soft leather and took one in either hand. He felt a bit like a ninja, holding the weapons. He thought of his best friend Goku. It was probably a good thing they hadn't discovered this trunk as kids.

"If you would've taught us how to use these, we'd probably fair a lot better out there," Yamcha grumbled. At the bottom of the trunk was a bo staff, but when he looked closer he saw that it had a curved blade at one end. If he had to come face-to-face with a zombie, he'd rather like the safety of having a long staff between them.

"We can do a quick tutorial with the others."

When the men came back downstairs, Oolong and Yajirobe were waiting on them. When Yamcha announced that they were going into town for supplies, Oolong snorted.

"Count me out."

Yajirobe cross his arms in front of his sizable chest. "Me too."

"We need men on the ground."

"No. We need food. And I'm not risking my life for it," Oolong said.

"Fine. You can stay. But we're taking Yajirobe," Yamcha decided. Which prompted Yajirobe to spew a few choice curses.

"There's a sword," Krillin interrupted. "I know you're good with one. We'll need your help."

And after a crash-course in how to lodge a throwing star in a tree trunk and wield a bo staff with mild finesse, Krillin, Yamcha and Yajirobe settled into the island's sole boat. It was a rickety little boat with a thrumming motor. The paint was peeling off the sides, the woman kneeling in a bikini no longer had a face. Or a left boob.

"Move fast," Roshi called, untying the rope and watching his students with a bit of reluctance. It wasn't a good idea to trek into the unknown, but they'd all die if they continued to wait it out. "We'll be waiting."


	15. Vegeta

There were too many of them. Women. A child. Raditz's annoying little brother who wouldn't. stop. talking.

"Kakarot," he barked, unable to recall the man's name. He had a good idea of his last name though, as it was most likely the same as Radtiz's them being brothers and all. Besides he wasn't exactly eager to fill his brain with useless shit like the names of weaklings who probably wouldn't live another month. "Shut up."

"But Vegeta," Kakarot grinned. "Mrs. Brief is making pancakes. She found some flour and she thinks-"

Vegeta pushed himself away from the wall and stepped outside. Instantly there was quiet. The morning dew still clung to the ground. Though it was light outside the sun was still tucked behind a canopy of grey clouds. On the edge of the porch the blue haired woman sat, her legs crossed beneath her as she studied a well-creased map.

She bit her lip as she dragged her finger across the paper. Then she frowned, sighed, and started at a different spot.

When she looked up, Vegeta didn't bother to look away. Her lips flexed to a wry smile.

"I'm looking at possible routes. There aren't too many roads through the mountains."

He shrugged. He hadn't asked what she was doing and he didn't particularly care. But she was quite possibly the only other person in their group with two brain cells to rub together so he took a seat at her left and watched with amusement as she tensed like a skittish animal. Her gun was resting between them and she shifted towards it a fraction. Smart, yes, but not very subtle.

"I vote we get a car," she said, meeting his eyes. Cute, he decided, the way she put on a brave face for his benefit. "Although we'll probably need more than one. We'll drive through the pass as best we can. We're not too far from the coast, actually. Once we're through the mountains we'll only have a forty miles, two major cities to pass through, and Kame House is here." She pointed to a small island. It was unnamed on the map, nondescript, so that was promising. "If there are Walkers there, we can easily clear it out."

"It's a straighter shot if we keep off the roads," he said.

The skin between her eyebrows puckered. Her lips shifted to one side and he watched as she dragged a pale finger down the map, from where they sat in the Frypan Mountains to the little unnamed island just a few miles from the coastal city Yahhoy.

"It's a shorter distance, sure, but we'd have to be on foot."

He smirked. "Scared of a few Walkers?"

"I'd rather avoid them."

"Haven't you been on the roads? Most of them are shoulder to shoulder with abandoned cars. So by the chance we find three running vehicles out in the middle of nowhere and enough gas to get us out of the pass, we'd drive until we can't anymore and then we'd be forced to walk ten-times longer than if we'd started on foot now."

Bulma bit her lip, crunching the numbers. When she lifted her gaze from the map she nodded her head, just once. But it seemed to take a lot out of her to concede that he was right.

"Hey. That's actually pretty smart. And here I thought I'd have to be the brains of this entire operation."

He grunted.

"No offense, but I know Raditz. He has a knack for making Goku look gifted. And Nappa, well." She started folding up her map, a small little smile playing on her lips. "Let's just say the cheese seems to have slid straight from his cracker."

Vegeta had no idea what that meant, but it sounded about right. The woman tucked her map into the front compartment of her bag and zipped the pack up. When she looked at him, her brave face wavered a bit.

"If we didn't have Goku, you'd kill us."

It wasn't phrased as a question so he didn't bother answering. Instead, he just watched her. Dirty hair pulled back. Hands shaky as she adjusted her satchel. The little crease between her brows still present, still untrusting. But there was something about her eyes. A sort of unrelenting confidence that refused to let up. The telltale signs of a steely bitchiness that would've probably worn him down before the turn, but he understood her strength was what had kept her alive. What kept her willing to live when so many had given up. He'd been trained to live in hellish conditions; she'd chosen to.

"We have numbers," she said. "Weapons. A bit of ammo. We've made it this long, and we can be beneficial. I'm not going to beg you to let us hang around, but if we go about this together we'll make it."

Impatiently, he replied, "Save your speeches. We've already decided we're going to the island."

"You're a bit of an ass hole, aren't you?"

"A bit," he shrugged. Though his voice was even Bulma noted he wasn't snarling the way he usually did.

She grinned, flashing him two rows of still-white teeth. And then the crazy woman winked at him. "Well then. That's about as much of an alliance as we're going to get."

Alliance. Vegeta balked at the word. He'd taken care of Nappa and Raditz for years now. And, more recently, he'd even begun to put his trust in the twins. Whether or not he was an ass hole or not, he was at least allegiant to those who returned the favor. Vegeta looked out into the yard. The traps they'd set the previous day near the weakspots of the old, crumbling stone fence had managed to catch a few Walkers. They stood, stakes driven through their middles, arms flailing and teeth snapping. The woman at his side shivered, and then got to her feet.

"Might as well go take them out of their misery."

"I never thought that Walkers felt much of anything."

"Maybe not." She shrugged. "But they're kinda creepy, just stuck out there like that." And then she retrieved a knife from her belt and Vegeta watched with mild fascination as she took out the four caught Walkers. When she was done, she wiped off her knife with the material of her pants.

Allies. It was a ridiculous notion, and out here Vegeta needed no one. He was perfectly capable of surviving on his own. But maybe there was some benefit to keeping these strangers around. He didn't have to be nice, but he could - at the very least - trust them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta bits are the best. I promise to incorporate lots more of him in the near future. Also - I spent a lot of time studying up on my DB geography for this one. Holy crud I should've just set it in our earth but I'll stick to this setting and hopefully it doesn't confuse anyone too badly... :P


	16. Chichi

They'd been walking all day and her calves were killing her. She bit her tongue, silencing her complaints, partly so Goku would think of her has a strong woman. He'd look at her ever so often and smile. Sometimes he'd ask how she was doing and she'd keep all complaints of aching legs to herself and instead reply with what she hoped was a charming "Fine." Once Goku offered her some water and she only spilled a little on her shirt. They stopped only to eat lunch and so Nappa could, as he so eloquently put it, "whiz in the woods".

The other reason she kept all complaints to herself was because Bulma was currently doing enough griping for the both of them.

"Will you shut up?" Nappa snapped, turning towards the blue haired woman and glowering at her. Bulma straightened her spin and stuck out her chin in a way that was meant to be defiant but Chichi thought she looked a bit like petulant child. Sometimes it was easy to see glimpses of the spoiled woman she'd been beneath the tough, no-nonsense exterior.

"No. My knees hurt and I need a damn break. I can't walk and read a map at the same time, and none of the rest of you are any help with navigating. If we don't stop we're likely to get lost. It's been six weeks since I've had a drop of coffee, and this instant shit doesn't count. Besides, my knees are killing me."

"I don't give a damn about your fucking knees."

"Well I don't give a damn about your fucking opinion. We need to-"

"Both of you. Silence," Vegeta snapped. Nappa straightened up immediately. Bulma laughed.

"Are you his dog? Vegeta, tell him to sit."

"I said silence," he growled. His dark eyes scanned the small clearing with intensity and even Bulma bit her lips together. After a few moments he raised his rifle and before the Walker was halfway out of the clearing he'd put a bullet through the centre of its skull. The Walker fell with a hollow thump on the dry earth. The group waited. The ringing of the bullet settled and no other Lurkers emerged from the thicket of trees.

"We'll stop here for the night," Vegeta said, and Chichi let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her legs burned and she was half tempted to drop where she stood. Bulma, however, beat her to it. Plopping her butt on the ground and sighing with relief.

A few members had sleeping bags, but they didn't bother with tents. It was a riskier escape.

Chichi helped Ms. Brief rifle through their packs to gather something for dinner. They'd snacked on protein bars for breakfast and lunch, but the mountain terrane was unrelenting. A hot, cooked meal had Chichi's stomach rumbling. She couldn't imagine what Goku was going through.

Vegeta announced that he and Nappa were going to look for something to eat. A few minutes later Goku and Tien rushed after them. Chichi hoped they would be able to find a wild boar or rabbit. Maybe a deer, if they were lucky. Her stomach released another growl and she shifted, hoping to silence it.

"Chichi," Bulma called. Once again on her feet, gun strapped on her back. "18 and I are going to gather firewood. Care to join?"

She nodded and followed the pair. Lunch stood nearby, arms crossed, her eyes never straying Chiaotzu as he fetched things for Mrs. Brief. Chichi wondered if Lunch had been invited to go along; if she had, she doubted Lunch would want to be immersed in their company anyway. Chichi shook her head and raced to catch up. The trio entered the woods from the clearing, the trees closing in on them, the shadows cutting through the fading light. Chichi much preferred the safety of the larger group and the openness of the clearing. Shotgun in hand, she followed Bulma and 18, crunching dry leaves in her wake.

"I would murder for a shower," Bulma said, breaking the silence.

"A Walker?" 18 asked, a bit of amusement seeping into her tone. It was hard to tell what 18 was feeling, she was normally so even. But out here, just the three of them, she seemed to loosen up a fraction.

Bulma laughed. "Yes. Maybe even a real-live person. If the shower was hot I'd kill…"

"Nappa?" 18 offered.

"Hell, I'd kill Nappa even if it was just a cold one."

"I'd help," 18 said. "I'd throw in the other two army brats for some shampoo."

"And a luffa," Chichi piqued up.

"Plumeria body wash." Bulma moaned. "Bubble bath and a glass of Pinot Grigio."

"I was always more of a beer person myself," 18 added.

Bulma shot her a slanted glance, her smile teasing. "For some reason that doesn't surprise me."

They walked a few more yards in silence, each of them thinking of what they missed from Before. Of hot baths and dark chocolate and their choice alcohol. A sleazy magazine. A…

"Shit," Bulma cursed, coming to a stop. A tent was set up, a scattering of camping gear strewn about. A bit of blood splattered across the leaves and, she moved her gaze across the obvious signs of a struggle until they settled upon a corpse.

"It's been picked apart," Chichi said, unable to tear her eyes from the remains. It was rather unsettling, but she'd become immune to these things. Hardened beyond her farm girl youth. She'd seen neighbors turn into monsters. She'd watched her dad… She looked away, squinted her eyes to fend off the sting of tears.

18 shrugged and started rifling through the camping gear, pocketing a box of matches and flipping on a battery operated flashlight. Bulma sighed, turned her back to the remains and tore open the tent flap. There was nothing much of value apart from a sleeping bag of which they had plenty, and so she stepped back and let the flap fall. She'd intended to ask Chichi something, but stopped short as she saw the hunching figure lumbering in their direction. Its ankle had been broken, but Walkers had a drunken stumble anyway. The thing took a few manic and uncoordinated stumbles in their direction, reminding Chichi a bit of a baby animal learning to take its first steps. Perhaps the infected brains had difficulty mastering its limbs. She'd have to ask Bulma her theory about it. Bulma seemed to hold all sorts of opinions on how the disease affected those infected, and with her background in science Chichi held her views to some esteem.

The figure in khaki shorts rolled its black, sunken eyes and released a moan. As quickly as it appeared, 18 raised her bow and took it down. Two more took its place, coming out of the woods and taking a few clunky steps forward. One tripped over the skeleton of the fallen camper, and Bulma raced forward to drive her knife through the back of its neck. Chichi grabbed for her own knife and moved towards the second, but 18 had already taken it out. So instead, Chichi leaned forward and pulled the arrow from its skull. It took a significant effort to retrieve the dart, and Chichi cringed as she freed it in three hard tugs. She handed the arrow over and said,

"We should find some more bows. They don't attract attention the way gunfire does, but you can still keep a safe distance. I hate stabbing these things."

18 nodded. "They're trickier to shoot though. I could teach you, if we were to get our hands on some weapons." It was as good as exchanging friendship bracelets with 18, Chichi decided.

The women finished raiding the campsite and Chichi gathered an armful of wood and they quickly made their way back to the clearing where the others were waiting. All thoughts of warm water and alcohol long forgotten. This was the way things were now, and it didn't even make her that sad. Instead, she helped Raditz start the fire. Goku and Tien returned first, bearing four squirrels. Chichi cringed as they handed them over. Poor dears, she thought; not very much meat and they'd be a bitch to skin. But Goku grinned proudly at her and she couldn't help but offer a shaky smile back. He was cute, after all, and she doubted a nicer man still existed in this world.

A few minutes later, while she was halfway through prepping the second squirrel, Vegeta and Nappa emerged. A buck was slung over the larger man's shoulders, and Bulma raced forward to inspect the animal.

"A deer! Oh, I could kiss you!"

Nappa leaned forward, mouth pulled into a sinister grin, and she scrunched her nose.

"Not you."

Everyone laughed except Vegeta. And Nappa. And 18. Chichi decided they had a lot of humorless people in their group. But it was nice, gathering around the flamelight, eating cooked meat and enjoying Raditz's tales of his army days. They were peppered with colorful language and jabs at Nappa. Vegeta frowned throughout the meal, not looking too thrilled about rehashing his past. After dinner he announced that they would start training.

Chichi frowned. "Training?"

"Yeah. We usually do some sparing, some hand-to-hand combat before bed. It keeps us in shape," Raditz explained. Goku and Tien looked thrilled to join in, but Chichi hung back. She'd been trained by her dad growing up, but it seemed silly to fight when every day was a test of her survival skill. Getting beat up for sport just seemed pointless. There were other ways to waste her energy, so instead she helped Mrs. Brief clean up dinner. Smiling as the older woman watched the young men start their spar.

"Such handsome boys! All of them! We're lucky to be a part of this group."

Chichi looked over. Raditz had taken off his shirt and was stretching. She looked down at the pot she was scrubbing to hide her blush. When she looked back up, Vegeta was talking, goading Nappa who looked ready for a fight. Thankfully both men had kept their shirts on much to Mrs. Brief's disappointment.

Nappa took off towards Vegeta, fists raised. The younger man, however, only smirked, playing defense and easily fending off Nappa's jabs. When Nappa finally managed to land a punch to his jaw, Vegeta staggered back but quickly regained his footing. The sneer of amusement was gone, and Chichi was struck by how malicious Vegeta looked then. With a deep growl, Vegeta bent his leg and kneed Nappa in the gut. The taller man hunched over. From the way he grabbed his middle and wheezed, Chichi figured the blow had knocked the wind right out of him.

Nappa might've had a hundred pounds on him, but Vegeta was obviously the more skilled fighter of the pair. When he looked out to the rest of the group, Vegeta's glare hardened on Goku.

"Well Kakarot," he said, amusement back. Smirk in place. "Are you ready to beg for mercy?"

And Chichi stilled, no longer caring about a bit of burnt deer skin on the cast iron skillet. Goku just grinned and stepped forward, an eager look in his eyes.

At her left, Mrs. Brief giggled. "Let's only hope Goku takes off his shirt, too! That boy is fit."

Chichi found herself nodding in agreement. Their training, she decided, wasn't the worst idea afterall. And the shaky alliance they'd built seemed to solidify in the midst of barbaric hand-to-hand combat.


	17. Bulma

Bulma was a flirt. She had no problem admitting so. She'd bat her eyes and sway her hips for her own personal gain. If the situation called for it, she wasn't above using her wits (or her rather impressive rack) to get her way. But she didn't play games and she never played hard to get; she didn't "accidentally" run into guys at places she knew they frequented, didn't freak out when more than three days elapsed without a phone call. She thought she was reasonable. She was comfortable with herself and guys seemed to respect that. She'd always considered herself a catch, certainly the kind of girl a guy would fall for without any tricks. But when she needed to get shit done, she'd never been opposed to turning on the charm.

But things were different now. Now, most of the men she ran into wanted to kill her. And when it came to those who weren't reanimated human corpses who wanted to eat the flesh right off her bones, well, she'd never had to try so damn hard to get what she wanted. None of the guys were interested in carrying her backpack for her. None of them would massage her feet after a long day. None of them would take her night watch shifts so she could get a precious hour of extra sleep.

And she was tired, dammit. Exhausted. She ran a hand through over the sweat collecting on her forehead and frowned at her dirty palm. It was probably a good thing she hadn't seen her own reflection since they'd left the stone house in Mountain Pass City. But she could see Chichi and Lunch and 18, and she feared the worst.

The longer they walked the more even the ground became. The more open the woods became. And then she saw a filling station and a hamburger chain and then a sign that read Peridot City, 12 miles. Vegeta came to stop and everyone followed suit.

"We're going to need more ammo," he said. It had been discussed in the evenings around the campfire. They had weapons but with each day they ran into Walkers their supply depleted just a little until Bulma's pack was lighter. Until she started relying more heavily on her knife. She knew Vegeta was right. Bastard that he was, he was smart. The coastal cities would be crowded, too crowded to face the hordes of Walkers with knives and swords and one box of ammo. Even if they managed to get cars in Peridot City, they still had 40 miles until the large coastal town of Yahhoy. And they'd most certainly need weapons.

"I've been thinking," she spoke up. All eyes turned to her. Vegeta looked unimpressed. Nappa looked furious.

"What a novel concept. A woman, thinking."

Bulma ignored him. Instead, she looked to Vegeta. "There's a military armory in Peridot City. Assuming it hasn't already been emptied, there's enough artillery and ammunition to last us a year."

Goku's stomach rumbled. Fists shaking at his side, Vegeta announced they would take a break. Instead of ripping into his pack for a stale protein bar the way his men did, Vegeta walked over to where Bulma sat, legs spread out on the grass. They were near the foothills of the mountains, shaded by the edge of trees. The blue haired woman leaned her head back, as though basking in the sun.

He knelt beside her.

"This armory."

She pried open one eye, not surprised to find him there thoroughly invading her personal space.

"Yes?" she asked, because it fun making him talk when it went against his every natural instinct.

"It would make sense that there's a military station in Peridot City. But you're sure it's stocked?"

"Positive."

"It'll be locked."

"Electronically," she added. Patiently, she opened both eyes and began unzipping her pack for lunch. She could feel Nappa's eyes on her, his glare heated at being left out of their conversation. He seemed oddly protective of Vegeta. She wondered if this was the same dynamic the trio had in the years before the turn. "The building has a backup generator though, in case of emergencies. It'll take a few hours to switch on, but once it does I can override the keypad to the armory. And then we can take whatever we can carry."

Vegeta nodded his head, considering her plan. His eyes were dark, black even. When he was done thinking, he looked at her. "How do you know this?"

"Because," Bulma grinned. "I installed the system."

He exhaled through his nose and got to his feet. "That might work."

As he turned his back to her and started walking away, she raised her voice to his retreating figure. "I'm not walking 12 miles."

He paused for a moment, turned to her, glared, and then continued on his way to where Nappa and Raditz stood. Bulma exhaled and went back to enjoying the sunshine. There was so little time to enjoy anything in this world, and she wanted to soak it up. Too long she'd been walking through the mountains, and she could tell they were rapidly approaching the coast.

Vegeta announced that they were heading back to the hamburger chain, and most people grabbed their packs and guns and saddled up without complaint. Goku settled at Bulma's side and asked, "Why are we backtracking?"

"Probably because there're cars back there." And she'd clearly told Vegeta she wasn't interested in walking.

Goku sighed. "It just doesn't feel right, blindly following Vegeta's orders. At the farm house, with Ox, no one was the boss. We made decisions together."

"Vegeta's used to ordering people around. Just indulge him, Goku. If we disagree with the plan at any point, don't worry, I'll speak up. But for now, he's right. We should go back towards the highway stop." Then Bulma looked back to where Chichi was glaring at the back of her head. "What's up with you and Chichi?"

Goku scratched the back of his neck and lowered his voice. "I'm not sure. She gets weird around me sometimes."

"I think she likes you." Bulma grinned. When Goku's face fell she laughed. Loudly.

"Shut up," Vegeta barked from up ahead, not bothering to spare her a glance. "You'll attract all the Walkers within a five mile radius with that shrill voice of yours."

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Goku. "She's a nice girl. Cute. Very sweet. If you had any past history to call upon I'd even call her your type."

A small splash of red covered Goku's nose. "I don't know, Bulma. She scares me."

"The good ones are usually a bit frightening." He looked unconvinced at her words. "There aren't a lot of eligible ladies left, Goku. It's not time to be picky."

Goku bit his lips together and decided not to tell Bulma about anything, especially not the fact that he thought he wanted to kiss her just that one time.

After a few minutes of silence, the fast food restaurant came into view and Goku sighed with relief. A small silver sedan sat parked in the parking lot, new despite being coated in a layer of dust. Bulma started towards the car, retrieving her screwdriver from her bag and getting to work. She jammed the flathead into the ignition lock, wiggled it a few times, her tongue darting out one side of her mouth as it was mostly feel and not actual skill at this point. When she succeeded in freeing the knob, she let out a short cheer before thrusting the screwdriver into the slot and starting the engine. The gas tank meter read close to empty, but it would be enough to make it to Peridot City and most of the way back.

When Bulma glanced up, Vegeta was watching her, face even, and she grinned. He obviously refused to be impressed by any of them, least of all her. But she'd manage to convince him. Eventually. Vegeta had all the makings of a challenge and Bulma Brief loved a good challenge.

Because bossing people around was his very favorite thing, Vegeta was telling Nappa and 17 to go further down the road to look for more cars. And then he ordered Kakarot, Raditz and 18 to make a trip to the convenience store to gather whatever supplies they could find.

"Everyone else wait here," Vegeta finished. Bulma wished she could see him in his army days, ordering people about. This was definitely his element. "We'll regroup here. If you're overrun we'll meet back at the foothills of the mountains where we braked for lunch."

"And have… fun," Bulma added, because it seemed a very serious note to leave on. Vegeta slid into the passenger's seat and slammed the door. Then she was next to him, starting down the road, avoiding the occasional Walker. She knew the route to the armory, but a thrumming of panic raced through her at facing the unknown hit her. She inhaled, and glanced at Vegeta from her periphery. He was scowling. Looking out the window. Probably trying his best to pretend she wasn't there.

"How long were you stationed with Raditz?"

He looked over at her and frowned. "A few years."

"A few? More than 5?" When he didn't say anything, she cocked her head to one side. "Less than 5?"

He shot her another thick stare and she sighed. "Fine. You don't want to talk." The outskirts of the city came into view. A few Walkers swiveled in their direction and made pathetic attempts to follow but they were too slow. Bulma drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. "What else did you do before the turn, besides the military?"

He didn't move. Didn't glance at her.

"Did you kill people before?"

Silence.

"Is it much different than killing Walkers? Even if both were in self defense, I feel like it'd be different." Bulma turned her head to look at him and nodded. "Okay then Mr. Congeniality. Guess what I did."

"Car mechanic."

A bubble of surprised laughter escaped her. When she was done, she shrugged and said, "Close enough."

He didn't pry. Didn't give any inclination that he cared to hear further. Bulma maneuvered around a half-dozen abandoned vehicles. The tires of the silver sedan crunched dirt. A few Walkers scattered around the wreckage began following her vehicle and the panic was back, tenfold. Now that she was driving off road it wasn't as easy to outrun them. A Walker beat its hand against her windshield. She kept it slow, not wanting to risk putting too much pressure on the gas. A smear of dark blood remained where the Walker had been.

"I have a dual PHD in mechanical engineering and theoretical physics. But car mechanic? I'll take it."

No matter how many degrees she held she would still be a flighty, scatterbrained little woman as far as Vegeta was concerned. A scatterbrained woman who was, however, pretty damn good at lifting cars.

"There are too many," she whispered. "The armory is just a hundred feet that way but we'll never make it on foot."

"Keep going. We can lose this cluster and make a run for the building on foot."

Bulma bit her lip and did as Vegeta instructed. His easy confidence motivating, comforting. She drove through the cluster until the trees flanking the road were too thick.

"Turn the car around."

"What?" she shrieked.

"You're supposed to be the genius here," he growled. "If the car is facing the road it'll be easier to escape."

Oh. Bulma blinked. "Oh!" And then she backed up, hitting Walkers in her wake, and maneuvered the car so it was facing the way they'd come. The Walkers were closing in on them. Smashing their hands against the glass windows and metal frame.

"Wait for my signal," Vegeta said.

She nodded. And then blinked, horror encompassing her features. "Wait for what?"

"To get out of the car."

"We're getting out?"

"Hn."

"And… what is the signal anyway?"

"Go," he growled, and then Vegeta threw open his door and raised his rifle and was shooting into the mass of Walkers. Bulma watched, her mouth open as she noted his expert marksmanship. Shaking her head, she quickly raised her shotgun and followed Vegeta down the sidewalk and to the armory.

When Bulma got to the armory - a nondescript building guised as a simple recruiting office - she yanked open the door. Unsurprisingly, it didn't budge. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw Vegeta still popping off the Walkers who came near. She turned back and grabbed for the crowbar she kept in her bag. A few pries and she growled in frustration.

"A little help here," she shouted.

Vegeta shoved her out of the way. She turned and raised her gun, taking out the closest Walker. An elderly woman, or what used to be an elderly woman. Now she was nothing, Bulma reminded herself. A corpse who'd caught a virus that had somehow taken control of her brain and was using her. She took out a second one and heard the loud bang of metal scraping metal, and turned to see Vegeta successfully pushing open the armory door. He met her eyes and she jumped through the opening, helping Vegeta through after her and sighing in relief as he pushed the door closed behind them.

There was silence. And it was… dark. Too dark. Bulma shivered and pulled at the stretchy material of camisole. She wore a plaid button-up open over it, but it provided little warmth in the air-tight military building.

"We should've brought more people with us."

"No. More people would slow us down. Prolonged our escape. Now let's go. I'm assuming you know where the generator is?" he asked, lifting a challenging brow. Bulma turned and lead the way. For some reason the ease at which he dealt with these situations, the way he held himself to such esteem, made her want to impress him. Bulma didn't go out of her way to impress people. But Vegeta was the type of bastard who gave his approval with such reserve that she decided wouldn't it be something, if she did manage to impress him.

As she was thinking about gaining his favor, Bulma's foot caught and she fell. "Fuck," she cursed, rubbing her tender palms. She'd caught herself, thankfully, but it hadn't been without consequence. "It's dark."

Vegeta rummaged through his pack and flicked on a flashlight. The beam of yellow light passed over her face before peering out into the empty hallway. "Yes. You're the genius."

She stuck out her tongue and climbed to her feet, but he was in front of her. "The generator's this way," she said and led Vegeta down the dark, winding hallway. There weren't any people. She wondered how quickly Peridot City had fallen to the plague. She thought of her dad in a similarly protected building. Surely it wasn't in this state. Surely it… She inhaled and bent behind the front desk where the backup generator switch was held. She flipped it on and prayed she was correct. Most places with backup generators were set to turn on automatically. Hospitals, for example, would've already exhausted their power in the weeks since the breakout. This place, however, she was confident would still work. A creaking of something was heard overhead and she grinned.

When she glanced up, she saw Vegeta staring into the dark, empty hallway.

"We'll have to wait for it to power up. It'll be an hour, at least. I installed a couple of these systems across the continent, but this one was the only I did in person."

Vegeta was still staring into the empty hallway.

"Hey, look," Bulma said, directing his attention to the counter behind the main desk. "It's a little store."

A few rows of candy bars, bags of chips, and sugary pastries wrapped in plastic stood behind the shelf. Bulma started tossing all of them into her pack. When she came across the cartons of cigarettes she felt like crying.

Vegeta was sat out on the ground. His back resting against the counter, one leg bent at the knee, the other straight in front of him. His gun was draped across his lap. He looked… on guard. The way he looked all the time, really. She'd never seen him relax. Rest. She rummaged through her bag, now delightfully full of snacks, and retrieved her box of matches. Taking a seat across from Vegeta, she ripped open a candy bar and lit one of the cigarettes. It felt a bit like her birthday.

"You're going to die."

She looked up at the sound of Vegeta's voice. Exhaling, she lifted a brow. "Of cancer?"

"It's bad for your health."

"Oh. And you wouldn't do anything to damage your health."

"No. I wouldn't."

Bulma snorted and took another drag. "Really? I seem to remember watching you guys beating the shit out of one another for no reason."

"Sparing?" He looked surprised. Like her question was entirely unwarranted. "Sparing is helpful. Necessary. It keeps us strong, fast. Ready for a fight."

"It keeps you weak and injured when the real enemy is lurking. You gave Goku a black eye. He's one of the best Walker killers out there, and now he's got a weakness."

The lights start coming on. Humming to life one by one. The hallway illuminated little by little, until they were swarmed with artificial light. Bulma squinted. It was too much. She wasn't used to it and, frankly, didn't appreciate it all that much.

This place was oddly untouched. The shelves were unturned, trash still stacked in wastebaskets. Every house and business they'd come across had some matter of looting, of struggle. But this place was… calm.

She snubbed out her cigarette on the ground and hopped to her feet. Vegeta followed behind her, and sensing the strange state of array around them, his gun hung at his side. Bulma led the way to the armory and grinned when the familiar door alarm came into view. All she'd need was her small phillips head, and they'd be in business.

It was slightly unnerving, the way Vegeta stood nearby, watching her. Well, she decided, she'd wanted a reason to impress him. So she opened the panel and unscrewed the metal clasps holding two of the wires in place. She remembered designing the circuitry, and although it was simple enough it took a good deal of concentration.

"What are you doing?" Vegeta asked, surprising her. With a frown, she narrowed her brows and tried to concentrate.

"I'd explain it to you, but I'm fresh out of crayons."

He didn't press further, but she could feel his impatience. After a long silence stretched between them, Bulma watched as the red lights began to flash green. "Aha," she grinned, stepping back. The door began to slide and before it was halfway open the pair had stepped through the armory.

No. Finding a cigarette hadn't been the highlight of her day. This was like her birthday.

"Remind me to thank you when we get out of this," Vegeta said.

Bulma grinned, watching as he took stock of the wall of semiautomatic rifles and handguns. The shelves of boxed ammo. Of bulletproof vests and neatly folded duffle bags. "Oh," she replied. "I won't let any of you forget."

He chuckled dryly and then tossed her one of the black bags. She stuffed it to the brim with handguns and .40 caliber ammo. In the second bag, she concentrated on getting vests for everyone in their party while Vegeta seemed to bent on the larger rifles, magazine clips and enough ammunition to take down a small army. When she picked up the two bags, she grunted.

"They're too heavy."

"Take one," he grunted, picking up her second bag and tossing it easily over his shoulder. Then he led the way down the corridor, and she knew she shouldn't have been surprised to see the small horde of Walkers waiting by the door. Between their commotion getting into the place and the noise the generator had made, she felt foolish not realizing they would be waiting for her.

"There are at least fifty," she whispered.

Vegeta nodded, his gaze firm on the crowd. "We can make it," he said, and she looked away because she knew he'd said it for her benefit. Once again she wondered what it was like for him before all of this. She wondered if he had a family, friends. Or if he kept to himself, ordering around his colleagues and not seeing much of worth outside his military career. She'd put all her chips on the latter, judging by the calculated manner he pointed to the car and said,

"Keep close. We'll need those handguns."

And then he'd opened the door and was shooting into the swarm like a hero from an action flick. She watched as they dropped before they could get too close. When Vegeta reached for a second clip, she raised a pistol and shot into the crowd. Her aim was off by almost two feet. She cringed; there were a few rounds of target practice in her future. These bullets were far less forgiving than her familiar shotgun shells.

A large male Walker got close and she raised her weapon, squinted one eye and prayed. Vegeta, however, was on him, kicking him backwards and driving the butt of his gun into its head, over and over. Blood splattered across his chest and face, and he gave a sinister grin.

She felt herself taking a step back, and when Vegeta glanced up he didn't bother to wipe away any of the grime. Preferring not to dignify his actions with commentary, she raised her pistol and looked ahead to where ten more Walkers were heading their way.

"Move," Vegeta commanded.

And so, following the cleared path towards the car, Bulma ran. Her lungs burned and her vision blurred; she yanked open the drivers side door and started the engine. Vegeta was only a few seconds behind, and before he'd collided with the seat she was off.

A few Walkers followed, but once they were on the road they were nothing but specks in her rear-view. She switched on the wipers to clear some of the blood but it only smeared the dark liquid. At her right, Vegeta unzipped one of the duffles and grinned down at their takings. Bulma looked inside at the boxes and boxes of ammo, and she laughed.

Her hands shaking, her heart pounding against her rib cage, she pressed harder on the pedal than was necessary. But for the first time since she'd left Ox's farm house, she felt… safe.

Maybe the man beside her was a bit of a sick fuck who took a small amount of pleasure in killing, but he was good at it. And if she had her choice between someone moral and someone capable, well, she was glad she didn't have to choose just then.

Because right now, she'd take four duffle bags of guns and ammunition and a satchel filled with cigarettes and candy bars and, maybe, when they got to Kame House she could decide if Vegeta was good person. In the meantime, she had to get there, alive, and Vegeta seemed her best bet.


	18. Krillin

**The** water was calm. Still. Cerulean and silver where the sunlight danced on its surface. Krillin tried to look forward to where the land lay, but all he could see was ocean in every direction. Near Kame House there were small clusters of other islands, but now that they were bound for the continent he knew he wouldn't see land again until they got there.

The little motor thrummed as Yamcha steered. Yajirobe stood at the ship's stern. Crossing him arms and looking back towards the safety of the island, still pouting.

Krillin opened his mouth to say something comforting. Something to tie the trio together, something to get Yajirobe a bit more eager to help but… No. He wasn't Goku. He didn't come preloaded with speeches to rally the masses. He was strong, yes, and loyal, but he wasn't exactly fit to be an inspiring leader. He'd always thought of himself as a perfectly capable sidekick. He looked to Yamcha and exhaled. Getting Yajirobe on board would just have to fall to him.

Yamcha continued to guide the boat north towards the coast. It seemed to take forever even though Krillin was aware it was a relatively short trip. An hour, two tops. It was just that there wasn't any of the joviality that usually accompanied the trips to and from Kame House.

When the shore came into view, all three members straightened. Even Yajirobe who'd spent the entirety of the trip calculatingly quiet. The sound of the boat or the scent of living flesh must've roused them, because there was a cluster of the undead waiting near the docks. Some fell clumsily into the water, grasping with unseeing hands towards the boat. Krillin felt a shiver betray his tough exterior as one of the hands scraped the bottom of the boat. When he looked to Yamcha, the other man had a frown encompassing his features.

It worse worse than he'd thought. Since the moment the TV broadcasts had stopped, he'd conjured many a daydream about what life outside the island had gone to. But this was worse.

Much, much worse.

The undead were horrific looking, really. They looked more like corpses than men with their rotting flesh and visible bones. Their faces ghastly, black black eyes and snapping teeth.

"There are so many of them," Krillin whispered, his focus on the docks crowded with the undead. Every inch of visible space was taken and his mind whirled. How would they ever step foot on land? He looked down to the pair of weapons in either hand. The sai had made him feel like stealth ninja earlier that day, but now he felt like a child facing an army.

A terrifying army who would… What? Kill him? Eat him? Rip him to pieces?

Kirllin swallowed. Hard.

"Guys," he said, voice barely rising above the moaning and snarling figures on the docks. "We need a plan."

Yamcha kept one hand on the steering wheel and grabbed for the bo staff on his back. "We'll park it, and swim over there," he said, pointing to the sandy shore a few yards east of the docks. The horde was thinner there. "Then we run as fast as we can to that building. We close the doors behind us, take out any of these things that are inside, catch our breath and go from there."

Krillin gripped his weapons and nodded in agreement. It was a shaky plan at best. But a shaky plan was better than no plan at all. And it certainly beat trying to make their way through the thicket waiting on the docks.

As the boat slowed towards the shore, Yamcha nodded and whispered, "Now."

The three men jumped ship, Yamcha and Krillin taking to the east side of the boat while Yajirobe took to the west side and screamed.

"Fuck. This water's cold!" he shouted, craning his neck so it kept above water. His glare was back, but his companions were swimming to the little clearing, away from the docks and the fate that awaited them there. Yajirobe lingered, grasping for his sword as a few of the undead took their chances in the water. "Wait!" he commanded, and though Yamcha pressed forward, Krillin turned back and froze.

In place of where Yajirobe had been the clear blue water was stained red. The pool of crimson slowly spreading. Krillin felt his gut wrench. "No," he heard himself saying, felt his mouth opening and closing but no other sound followed.

"Krillin," a voice called ahead. "Let's go."

Shaking his head, Krillin turned and paddled as quickly as his limited limbs allowed. He ran the last bit against the shallow current and pulled himself on shore. Two of the undead were headed their way, but Yamcha took them out with the blade on the end of his bo staff. The news reports instructed taking out the brain, and Yamcha had obviously been paying attention.

Krillin followed Yamcha towards the tall building looming in the distance. Briefly he wondered if it would be smarter to pick someplace else. Somewhere a bit more nondescript. Maybe something smaller, less _things_ inside.

"Shit," Yamcha cursed. Because Krillin knew, they were going to meet the same fate as Yajirobe. They should've stayed to starve on the island. Maybe given fishing another shot. Maybe started scavenging on one of the surrounding islands. Maybe looked for nuts or fruit or...

Krillin stood with his back to Yamcha, raising his weapons while Yamcha wielded the bo staff. Three approached, and he stabbed the first two with his right sai, then the third with his left. They were slower and weaker than he'd first thought. A small comfort, since there were at least four dozen more approaching.

His deft fingers slipped into his pocket and grasped the three throwing stars Roshi had given him. He tossed one into an approaching corpse, watching as it stuck in its neck. A bit of black blood pooled but the corpse didn't stumble. Didn't let up. It was like they felt no pain, saw nothing but the possible food ahead.

He took hold of the next star, but before he could toss it the corpse fell and the sound of gunshots ensued. When he looked up a tall figure with a rifle stood. _Bang_. Krillin's ears rang. _Bang_. Two more walkers fell. _Bang_. Another. Yamcha turned, his eyes wide.

"Come with me," the stranger shouted. And since it was that or die, Krillin and Yamcha raced towards the man. "Stay close," he said, his gun clearing the path. Away from the beach and buildings and into a small wooded area towards the outskirts of the city.

Krillin ran as fast as he could, wondering if it was wise to put all his trust in this strange, green man with loose, black trousers, worn boots, and a oversized linen shirt with buttons undone at the collar. His head was wrapped in a turban and the sword strapped to his back glimmered in the sun.

The stranger slowed, and when Krillin turned back from where they'd come he sighed in relief. They'd lost the horde, and the stillness of the forest made him aware of how his lungs were burning. Krillin considered himself a good athlete, but he'd never faced a threat so… threatening.

"Smart," Yamcha commented, and the stranger only nodded. Krillin looked to the fence Yamcha was inspecting. It was a simple barbed wire fence with three rows of the knotted wire. Every few feet a pair of pots or tin cans hung. Krillin nodded in agreement. If any corpses found their way to the camp they'd certainly make a ruckus trying to get through.

The stranger took one long, green hand and opened a nondescript gate, allowing them in. The pots swung and two men leaped from the trees.

"Shit. Piccolo. We weren't expecting you back so soon," one of them said, lowering his handgun and smiling slightly. The second man kept his gun raised, pointing at Yamcha's skull.

"You brought back strangers."

"They came on a boat, without any weapons."

The second man sneered. "Looks like they have weapons to me."

"No _real_ weapons," the one they'd called Piccolo replied. "I don't have to explain anything to you, Nail." Then to Yamcha and Krillin he said, "Follow me."

Dutifully, the pair followed. The splattering of trees weren't as wide here, letting slits of warm sunlight through. A few solar panels sat in the sun, along with a garden bearing ripe red tomatoes and the leafy green tops of carrots. If Krillin could look further, he figured he'd probably discover more. However, he followed Piccolo into one of the canvas tents, where a large man stood reading to a small child who sat cross legged on the floor. When the tent flap opened, both turned towards the newcomers.

"I found these two. They lost a friend, and were on their last leg themselves."

The larger man smiled. A warm, friendly smile that made Krillin want to trust him. Even if it wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do.

"That was very compassionate of you, Piccolo," he said. "I'm Guru, and this is my camp. We don't let outsiders stay. They can't be… trusted. However, I'll have young Dende here take you to the medic tent, tend to your wounds. You are welcome to join us for dinner and stay for the night. We'll see you out in the morning."

Krillin and Yamcha exchanged a look. Maybe they'd even give them some seeds. Farming was sustainable, maybe not practical on their little island, but it was better than nothing. Certainly better than what awaited them back at the docks.

Yamcha grinned, finding trust in the group's leader too. "Thank you."


	19. Chichi

" **Gas**!" Chichi cheered from the kitchen. She'd switched on the burner and a small blue flame came to life. "This place has gas!"

"If I'd've known you were so excited about gas, I would've let you follow Nappa down the road," Raditz said. Chichi ignored him in favor of scouring the kitchen for pots and pans. Lunch and Tien had gone to fetch water, and when Bulma mentioned the propane tank in the yard thoughts of cooking in a real, honest kitchen had made Chichi's fingers itch. Mrs. Brief cheered behind her.

"Finally! I'm so tired to bending over a camp fire."

"I'm not tired of you bending over anything," Nappa said into the woman's ear, loudly enough so everyone in the kitchen could hear.

Even though Mrs. Breif gave a girlish giggle and flushed, Bulma hit the man on the back of his bald head.

"Cut it out, Nappa," she said through her teeth. Everyone around them ignored the pair. Her mother was opening and closing cupboards, Radtiz was rifling through the pantry, and Chichi pulled out a shiny copper pot from a cupboard and grinned.

"Finally surrounded by women and I _still_ can't get my dick wet," Nappa grumbled, to which Bulma tried to whack him a second time but, being prepared, he ducked out. Instead, Bulma said with a saccharine laced tone,

"So charming. I can't imagine why you'd have any trouble finding someone."

The door to the kitchen opened and Vegeta walked in. Bulma grinned at him and he frowned. She winked and he looked away. And Chichi blinked because it looked like Vegeta was… blushing. And as much as she'd love Bulma to have someone other than Goku to pine after, well, it still made her about uncomfortable. Vegeta was _scary_.

"Nappa, Radtiz," he barked. "Let's go."

The three men left without question, leaving Chichi alone with the Breifs. Mrs. Brief started rifling through the spice cabinet. Not much was left, but they couldn't afford to be picky. Whatever spices she'd use would make for a more appetizing dinner given that the three men would probably come back with more wild game. Chichi wished they could find a farm with a pig or chicken, but they hadn't come across anything like that since leaving her house weeks ago.

"Bulma," she whispered. "I saw that. The way you looked at Vegeta…"

Bulma laughed and gave an easy shrug. "What? He's sexy. A woman has needs, you know."

Chichi exhalled. Yes. She was well aware of that particular deficiency.

"I know there are other things to worry about Chi, but we can't all be robots like 18."

"I guess." And then she set the copper pot down on the stove and worried her lower lip with her teeth. "I won't judge you."

"Oh, judge away. I don't care."

Chichi gripped the copper handle and shook her head. Bulma was far from apologetic, and she had to respect her for it. They all had jobs to do, parts to play. Bulma came with a lot of smarts, and she'd helped them gather weapons and ammo and kept their water filters up to date, but she wasn't as strong as Chichi. She wasn't as good a shot as Lunch. But she knew her worth and she didn't seem to feel the need to fight for her place in this world.

Mrs. Brief started up the flame and splashed some cooking oil onto a stainless pan. She hummed to herself a ballad about lovers in the night, soft and off-tune.

"I'll go see if there's anything left in the garden," Chichi said, and as she made her way outside in the afternoon sun, she inhaled the scent of dew and grass. Goku and Chiaotzu were already in the garden, laughing like a pair of young boys.

Goku stopped and waved.

"Hey," she replied.

"Chichi!" Chiaotzu sang. "We found carrots and potatoes!"

"That's great! Take those in for Mrs. Brief." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Chichi watched as the boy took off running with the canvas bag stuffed to the brim with vegetables. It smacked his stubby legs as he ran up the porch steps.

Chichi turned and remembered she was alone with Goku. And she blushed.

"Hi."

An affable grin spread across his features. "Hey Chichi. Chiaotzu and I think we spotted a strawberry bush in the forrest. I have another bag we could fill. Maybe Mrs. Brief could make one of her famous strawberry tarts. They're Bulma's favorite."

Ignoring the spark of envy that came at his knowledge of Bulma's favorite anything, Chichi asked him to lead the way. And though it was only a short trek through the yard and into the woods, Goku filled the space with talk of sparring with the guys and eating potatoes with whatever his brother found in the woods and of how he and Chiaotzu were hoping to find some time at the island to go fishing.

Chichi nodded along until they made it to the bushes and, with a grin, she confirmed that they were indeed strawberries. They mightn't have been her favorite, but it would be a fabulous break from protein bars. She'd eaten through her stash of peanut butter chocolate chip and all she had left were banana flavored.

Goku opened the canvas bag and the pair started picking. Given a task, Goku was much quieter and the pair moved in comfortable silence. Chichi snuck the occasional glance, but she kept all thoughts to herself because it didn't seem like the time just yet.

Then they heard a gaggle of masculine voices in the distance. She grabbed for her handgun but Goku lifted one finger to his mouth - the universal signal for quiet - and held out his other hand. She took it, and even though he was pulling her behind the strawberry bushes from possible harm, all she could think about was the way his hand felt holding hers. Big and strong and rough and solid. A girlish trill shot straight to her ovaries and she hoped Goku would mistake her flush for fear.

What kind of girl got all hot thanks to a little hand holding?

The voices approached, loud and unabashed, and Chichi recognized the first as Nappa's.

"There are too many of us, Vegeta. We need to cut the ones who will slow us down."

Chichi pulled some of the leaves back so she could see the trio approaching. In the center stood Vegeta, stoic and sinister. His face betrayed no emotion, but his eyebrows always seemed narrowed in a look of displeasure. Maybe all those years of being unhappy really had made his face stick like that.

Flanked by the two taller men, Chichi would've thought they were his bodyguards if she hadn't seen him in action first hand. He was a best shot of the three, and when they sparred in the evening neither man posed a challenge. In fact, the only member of their group who seemed to rival him in strength was hiding beside her.

"The blue haired bitch doesn't even help cook," Nappa fumed.

Vegeta's features remained even. "She's useful."

"She's-"

"This isn't up for discussion."

Chichi turned to Goku, and was caught off guard by the serious look on his features. He was usually so carefree. But Chichi didn't miss the implications of Nappa's words. He didn't trust them, didn't see them as one cohesive group. She'd be a fool if there weren't members she'd trusted more, but…

Maybe Nappa was just unhappy because Bulma kept fending off his advances. Chichi couldn't remember her own mom, but she figured if she was still around, she wouldn't want her mom flirting with someone like Nappa.

"Now let's go, find some Walkers and blow off some steam," Vegeta said, and it made a shiver race down her spine. Chichi couldn't imagine enjoying killing anything, but this trio, they used fighting as a release.

And, yes, her new group was all kinds of uncivilized, but it felt as much like civilization as they might ever get.

She nudged Goku with her shoulder.

"Bulma will be alright. Vegeta needs her, he's smart enough to realize how important she is."

Goku frowned, and though he smiled it didn't quite reach his eyes.


	20. 18

**The** worst part wasn't risking her life. It wasn't even being stuck in the woods with Raditz. No, the worst part was leaving her brother back at the safehouse, alone. 18 had never been a people person, but 17 was a recluse. He didn't make a lot of friends before the turn, and now with the way things were he went out of his way to avoid people.

And though she loathed to admit it, having numbers was a good thing. Their father would've told them to stay in pairs. To go at it alone, minimal supplies and easier escapes. However, the more time she spent around the group, the more confident she was that numbers weren't a bad thing. In fact, she'd even managed a good sleep because some nights she didn't have to take a watch shift.

Raditz barrelled alongside her, crunching through the thickest path of trees and noisily hacking the low-hanging branches in his wake. It was like he wanted every Walker in the vicinity to find them. Like he wanted a fight.

"Be quiet," she snapped.

Raditz turned, frowned, and kept at it. Loud. Uncaring. Like he'd volunteered to go with her to scour a nearby farm just to piss her off.

And maybe he had, so the smartest thing would be to remain unaffected. Men were so childish sometimes. She frowned and kept on walking forward, her steps as careful as they were quiet.

Another mile and they saw the squat little house Bulma had told them about. She'd pointed at her map and instructed them what to look for. Lunch requested toilet paper, Chichi wanted mint toothpaste, and everyone needed food.

18 inhaled. The house was a two story with chipped gray siding and square windows.

Broken windows.

"Shit," Radtiz mumbled. "Well this was a waste of time."

"Maybe," she agreed, hoisting her bow up over her shoulder. "But we came all this way. Might as well take a look."

Raditz lead the way to the little house, opened the door and banged three times against the wall. When nothing inside stirred, he stepped inside and made a face. Two dead Walkers lay face-down on the floor. Their bones visible beneath yellowed, paper-thin flesh. Dried blood pooled around their heads. 18 had gotten used to the sight, it was the smell that had her cringing.

They went into the kitchen first, but all the cabinets were open haphazardly. The room in a general state of disarray.

"It's been picked through."

18 rolled her eyes and peered into an empty cabinet. "Look anyway."

When the kitchen proved a lost cause, they moved upstairs. They found three rolls of toilet paper in the bathroom cupboard and 18 stuffed them into her bag. There were no toiletries left, so Chichi would have to suffer through another few days of orange flavored toothpaste. When they moved into the bedroom, they found a few shirts hanging in the closet. Raditz stashed them in his pack until he came to a sparkly red nightie. Raising a brow at 18, she frowned and jammed a handful of underwear in her backpack. She hated wearing other people's things, but it had been weeks since they'd come across a store where new, unworn items were stashed. For now, this would have to do. Mrs. Brief was good at washing, and underwear were the least of her problems.

"Think Goku and that Asian chick are banging?"

18 froze, her hand hovering over a neatly folded stack of bras. "Do you really want to gossip right now?"

He shrugged. "Nothing else to do. Unless, you're up for something else." His eyebrows waggled in a way she suspected was meant to be sexy. She dropped her gaze from his subpar brows to his lips. They were pouty actually, not a bad mouth for kissing.

She allowed her eyes to trail further south, to his big shoulders and muscular arms. His entire frame was rather impressive. As a package, he wasn't bad looking. He wouldn't be her first choice, especially considering his personality. Goku was more handsome. Vegeta more tempting with his dark eyes and dominant nature. She didn't even mind that she was taller than him. There was something about shorter guys - they made her feel powerful.

But Raditz towered over her and, sure, she liked that too.

"Fine," 18 said, yanking at the hem of her tanktop and pulling it over her head. Then she placed both hands on her bare hips. Raditz was frozen. Mouth agape, eyes wide. "Well?"

"You're… serious?"

"You weren't? See, I seem to remember you propositioning me. Were you joking?"

"No. No." And Radtiz was shaking his head as fast as his hands were undoing his fly. "I'm just… surprised."

18 watched him undress. His torso was thick with muscle. It rippled with each jerky movement it took to get his pants off. She almost laughed as he stood there, straining boxer briefs a size too small for him, a red garter hugging one of his bulging thighs, and finally a pair of mismatched tube socks on his feet.

All in all, not bad. 18 grinned.

"Why?" he asked, looking unsure despite his earlier bravado.

"I have needs too, you know." She shrugged and wove the button to her jeans through the hole not bothering to look at him. "Plus, if you tell anyone at camp I'll deny it, and they'll believe me."

Raditz rolled his eyes, watching as she shimmied out of her pants. "Don't give a fuck who knows, just want to get some."

"Keep the romantic talk to yourself," she laughed. He smirked, running a big hand through some of her blonde hair.

"I'll try," he whispered, and then kissed her hard on the mouth. When he hoisted her up against the wall and her head collided with the plaster, he didn't bother to apologize.

It turned out making a run with her hadn't been such a waste afterall.


	21. Yamcha

At his side, Krillin was shaking hands with the men who had invited them into their camp only to kick them out first thing that morning.

Outsiders, apparently, weren't to be trusted.

Piccolo handed over their confiscated weapons and Guru clamped a meaty hand on Krillin's shoulder. Yamcha stood at Krillin's side, spine straight and expression even. As much as he didn't like the strangers for forcing them out at dawn, he and Krillin had come to the mainland for food and Guru & Co. had been unprecedentedly generous. His bag was filled with seeds and saplings, a fishing line, hooks, and two nets.

The little boy who'd helped bandage them up came running to say goodbye. With a big smile, Dende handed over a little white chicken. Krillin blinked as he accepted the animal.

"Uh," he said, staring at the frightening little bird. It flapped it's wings in his arms. "Thank you."

"Find a boat as quickly as possible," Guru advised. At his right Nail, the tallest, most boorish of the group exhaled.

"And stear clear of the main roads. That's where the Red Ribbon Army tends to scout."

Krillin and Yamcha exchanged a look. The bird squawked in Krillin's grasp, and he wrestled the animal feeling a bit like a crocodile handler. Even though the bird weighed only six pounds.

"The army? Isn't that a good thing?" Yamcha asked, ignoring the chicken-wrangling.

"No. They aren't associated with King Furry's army. They're a band of criminals who've taken advantage of the way things are now. They'd imprison you for your seeds, and kill you for that chicken."

Krillin thought about handing the animal over, make it all a bit easier because he didn't know the first thing about chickens anyhow, but Dende grinned at him and the bird gave another call, and so Krillin held onto the bird and offered a timid smile.

"Thank you all. For everything."

Without any further fanfare Piccolo showed them out, leading the way through camp. They walked up hill to where the barbed wire fence drew a square around the camp, pots and pans and ladles and spoons dangling. There was a slight breeze but nothing strong enough to make noise. The reanimated dead, however, would certainly tip them off.

"Take care," Piccolo said, and he held the fence as the two men ducked beneath the barbs. Krillin waved before cutting a path just south of the main road. He didn't know much about what the Red Ribbon Army might be like, but he'd bet his life that no other group they might run into would be as affable as Piccolo's.

Yamcha kept pace beside him. He wished they had a map, because using only the sun as reference he was ninety-percent sure they were heading in the wrong direction. He'd spent a good deal of his youth hanging out in the desert with no maps or clocks, but he'd left all that when he'd met Goku and Bulma. Since then he'd gotten… soft. He thought of his ex-girlfriend and smiled, because he knew without a doubt Bulma was fine out there. Somewhere. Between her smarts and resourcefulness, she would be fine. Maybe she'd even forgiven him for his last transgression and was out there looking for him. Looking for the island. Hope spread warmth through his chest. Krillin's chicken cawed and broke him from his daze.

"You okay?" Krillin asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. Just thinking about Bulma." And because that sounded a bit pathetic, he added, "And Goku. Our friends, just wondering how they're doing out there."

Krillin frowned. He didn't like to think of the people he knew. The odds weren't good, especially for people who made as much noise as Bulma and Goku.

"We're going in the wrong direction," Yamcha commented. The only sound that betrayed the silence was the clump-clump-clumping of their shoes on packed earth. Even the bird had gone still, nestled in the crook of Krillin's arm.

"The outlying towns will be less crowded. Once we have a boat we can head back that way."

"That makes sense. And-"

Yamcha's voice fell as a figure of a woman exited the woods. Blue hair flying behind her head, little red dress climbing up her slender thighs. Her cheeks were red with exhaustion, her hands windmilling circles to right her stumbling balance on four-inch heels.

Both men just stood, watching the scene with mouths agape until six walking corpses followed from the very clearing. Lumbering forward, the half-dozen figures followed the ridiculous woman, slowly gaining ground.

"Help!" she screamed. "Help me!"

Krillin raced forward first, getting close enough to lure a pair of corpses away from the screeching female. The first had graying skin hanging limp from its face. It moaned and lept forward. Forked said in one hand, chicken in the other, Krillin drove the spike through its brain. The second walking corpse stumbled over its counterpart's body, and Krillin took it out easily enough. They were slow, not posing much of a threat to his years of martial arts experience. Really his only disadvantage was his height as it made it a touch difficult to get at their brains. But if he could get them to lose their footing...

When he looked over, Yamcha had succeeded in taking out the four remaining corpses and was standing stiff in the embrace of the woman. She sobbed into his chest, blubbering skirt had ridden up to expose that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Krillin blushed and look away.

Prying her away so she stood at arm's length, Yamcha asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes." She sniffled. "I got away from some of those icky Red Ribbon men, but then these monsters started chasing me. I hate them. They're so gross." And then an idiotic grin betrayed her features and she fluffed some of her tangled, blue hair. "And then you boys saved me."

"Er, yes," Krillin conceded. The chicken squawked.

"I'm Maron," she said. And thankyoukami she pulled at the hem of her skirt. It wasn't decent, but at least her plump little backside was hidden from his view. Roshi wouldn't care about food if he came back with her.

"I'm Yamcha, and this is Krillin. The Red Ribbon men, are they close?"

"Yes." She pouted. "I was with a group a few days ago near East City. We were having a good go at things. The boys put up some walls and the biters couldn't get in. Those things eat people. It's disgusting."

Yamcha nodded patiently.

"Well," Maron continued. "Then the Red Ribbon Army showed up and eliminated our camp. They kept me alive though. They wanted to take me with them, but I'm not a slave. I'm a model."

"Ah," Krillin offered. Of all the professions ill suited for this world, that might take the cake. "Stay with us. We have a safe place."

"Oh! Goody! I'm so lucky! You boys are cute."

Yamcha smiled kindly and Krillin didn't know where to look so he concentrated on her eyes. Maron winked and he felt himself flush. The chicken wiggled in his arms.

"Alright. Let's move."

The reanimated corpses seemed easy enough to kill, as long as they weren't in groups like they'd been in the coastal city of Yahhoy. However, they weren't the only threat. Sometimes the living were far scarier than the dead.


	22. Nappa

" **Oh** Nappa," the blonde woman giggled. "I'm a married woman."

"I don't mind."

She gave another teetering laugh, and went back to stirring the stew. It smelled heavenly - thick broth flavored with rice, wild mushrooms and boar. It looked tasty too. Not nearly as tasty as the woman tending to it looked. She was all slender hips and bouncing jugs. Nappa had seen Vegeta and Raditz cast the younger Brief girl a look of interest from time to time, but the mature one was soft and lithe and not nearly as prickly as her daughter.

When she turned a small splash of pink dotted her cheeks. She could use a bath, but Nappa wasn't complaining.

"Would you like a taste?"

He rested his hulking figure against the countertop and he towered over her. He towered over all of these weaklings. Hell yes, he thought. He'd love one.

"Nappa," an all-too-familiar voice snapped. Ignoring the stew and Ms. Brief, Nappa awaited the orders that were sure to follow. Vegeta didn't bother to address anyone if orders weren't involved. "Let's go."

Not having a clue where to, Nappa exhaled a heavy breath through his nostrils and followed Vegeta outside. He was surprised that Raditz wasn't waiting for them. Instead the third member of their troupe was with The Others. The ragtag group of idiots who'd come crawling from all corners of the planet in need of their assistance. Farmers and bank robbers and spoiled bitches. An annoying little kid and Raditz's even more annoying little brother… Individually they were maddening. As a collection they made Nappa's head ache.

Vegeta stilled, his gaze falling to the group. They had the armory takings spread out on the grass and a few rusty old soda cans set up a few yards in the distance.

"What are you doing?" Vegeta snapped.

"Oh, hey Vegeta!" Bulma greeted. There was a pistol in the hand she used to wave at the pair. "We're having some target practice."

His glare was murderous. "You're wasting my ammunition."

Hands planted on her hips, Bulma shot him a challenging look. " _Our_ ammunition, bud. And it isn't wasting. We're improving our aim."

"So we can be fresh out of bullets with a threat comes our way."

"So we can live to see the coast."

Instead of replying, Vegeta grabbed two rifles and tossed one to Nappa. He caught it easily, the metal cool in his grasp. Bulma turned on her booted heel and went back helping Chichi load a fat .357 revolver. Its barrel winked as it caught the sunlight.

Unsure of why they were tolerating all this, Nappa kept his lips sealed. He'd suffered Vegeta's wrath before the world went to shit - he didn't want to tempt him now. So he stood dutifully by, watching as Raditz sifted through the choices. His brother frowning a few feet away.

"I don't need a gun," Goku said. "I like my shovel."

Raditz snorted. "It's fun having a melee weapon on hand, Goku. I understand that, but you need a gun if you get in a pinch."

He frowned. "I don't want a gun."

"Well you need a backup weapon at least."

Goku glanced around the yard. Chichi was aiming her weapon at one of the soda cans, practicing killing. Maybe that wasn't fair. She was protecting herself. But Bulma said her father was working on a cure, and though she said it wouldn't reverse those already infected, maybe… He had to hold onto some hope. Everyone around him seemed eager to abandon their humanity, but Goku thought better of it.

He moved his gaze from Chichi to a tree that had been planted near the house. A peach tree that wasn't in season, it's long, straight branches not yet bearing fruit. Goku grinned, and Nappa watched as the idiot hopped over to the tree, eagerly leapt up, taking hold of one of the sturdy branches and attempting to pry it off. It took a few tugs, but the dexterous young man succeeded in breaking off one of the branches throwing shade over the house.

There were a few small branches still attached to the slender wooden pole, but with a little cleaning… Goku grinned and held up the stick. It was a little over two meters long and unnaturally straight. "It just needs to be cut on each end. Nappa, can I use your ax?"

Nappa grunted and handed the weapon over, watching as Raditz's ridiculous brother fashioned the branch into what seemed a rather pointless weapon. He took back his ax and tucked it into his belt as Goku held up his woodwork for everyone to see.

"It's just like the bo staff I had when Master Roshi was training me."

Bulma laughed. "I still think a gun would be a safer bet…"

"This way he won't be wasting bullets," Vegeta said, and then he turned back to Nappa. "Let's go."

They disappeared into the trees without a sound. Vegeta lead the way and Nappa dutifully followed, listening for the telltale rustle of tree limbs or the crunching of leaves.

"Where are all those fuckers?" he complained. Vegeta, similarly frustrated reached into his pack and retrieved a small plastic flare gun. Nappa chuckled and watched as the other man raised the gun and squeezed the trigger. They only had to wait a few minutes before the streaking flame and resounding _pop_ attracted every walker within their vicinity. Even at this time of day the firework was blinding. Nappa felt the spike in his pulse, the anxious excitement in his chest. His heart thrummed against his chest and he removed the ax. Vegeta pulled out a crowbar Nappa was fairly sure had been pilfered from Bulma's stash of tools. She seemed extra touchy about them, and Nappa wanted to laugh. Vegeta had probably just taken it to spite her.

Before he could ask, three walkers emerged from the woods. The first wore a soiled brown sweater and skirt so long it kept tripping on its hem. Hn. Nappa snarled. Too easy. He planted the ax blade into the crown of its skull.

Vegeta was concentrating on the largest of the trio. Since the shirtless walker had at least a foot on him, Vegeta arched the crowbar outward, swiping its knees so that it crumpled forward. With its lack of reflexes the walker didn't bother to catch its fall, just thumped chin-first to the ground. Vegeta drove the thick metal spike into its temple, smirking as the walker fell limp at his feet.

Nappa finished off the third without much fanfare. Sometimes these things were too easy to kill. Maybe at the more crowded coastal cities they'd be in for a real challenge. He wiped some of the blood from his cheek and waited, but no other walkers emerged. When he turned to Vegeta, he shook his head.

"That was anticlimactic."

Vegeta shrugged. "Better than sitting inside that house, playing family."

Vegeta always seemed happiest in battle before, and now that the entire fucking world was his battlefield there was something different to him. Nappa enjoyed killing the ugly, undead buggers too. But his rage was a basal instinct. Vegeta's seemed a deep rooted need.

"Let's head back." Vegeta said, slipping the crowbar back into his pack and starting back they way they'd come.

As they approached the house, they heard gunshots. Nothing out of the ordinary - they'd been playing target practice. However, after a few more feet they heard the screams intermixed with the gunfire. Without exchanging a look, Vegeta sped to a sprint.

By the time Nappa caught up, he could see the damage. Two, three dozen dead walkers lay scattered around the camp. There were only six still standing, but Vegeta took them out with quick, well-aimed shots from his rifle.

When the resounding gunshots faded, Nappa looked around. Raditz had the boy piggy-back on his back. 17 tossed his knife to the ground and asked his sister if she was alright. 18 shrugged and went to retrieve her arrows from the pile of walkers. Chichi was panting, clutching a bloody frying pan. The big copper one she'd been so fond of in the kitchen. Lunch and Tien were back to back, holding rifles. Bulma had her pistol raised, a look of terror etched on her blood spattered features, her eyes darting around the fallen walkers looking for movement.

At last satisfied, she lowered the weapon. Her look of fear melted into one of rage.

"You stupid fucks. A _flare gun_. You could've had us all killed with a stunt like that. What the hell were you thinking?" Her brows lowered. "Oh wait. I'm guessing you weren't."

Goku was wiping off his rudimentary bo staff with somber expression, and Vegeta glanced to the pile of weapons, still very much there. He shrugged and turned his focus back on Bulma.

"Good thing you had all that practice."

And then he tossed the crowbar at her feet and turned back to the safe house. Nappa didn't see it but he heard the door slam. Silence settled around the camp, still littered with rotting corpses.

"Let's move these out before dinner," Chichi said, her voice wavering a touch. And as though nothing else were different, they set to work.

...

Go check out **stupidoomdoodles'** work! After seeing her latest sketch of Goku, I realized Goku NEEDED a bo staff in this. I was inspired, so there you go. There's a link to her blog on my profile.

omgosh I'm turrible at killing off characters. sorry sorry if you're here for the guts/glory!


	23. Bulma

**Even** though Chichi and her mother had crafted a surprisingly delicious concoction of powdered milk, rice, and fresh strawberries for breakfast, Bulma felt … unsettled. They'd eaten together around the dining room table in a silence thick with tension. She'd dipped her plastic spoon in the sticky mixture, sloshed it around a bit but didn't eat more than a few spoonfuls.

Despite Goku's unhappiness with the events from the day before, he'd gobbled up a second helping of breakfast. Vegeta's group sat together, eating with vigor and laughing with unapologetic luster. He'd shrugged off her complaints about his little stunt with the flare gun, and though she'd known as a whole they were a bit of a wildcard she'd never considered the lengths they'd go to for a little fun.

Her philosophy was to avoid Walkers when at all possible. Vegeta wanted to attract them.

She'd have to have a word with him. Otherwise she wasn't sure if they could… well, she didn't want to think about that just yet. Living in peace was important to her and she couldn't settle for the gap that was separating them.

Chichi and her mother went about the domestic duties. Clearing the table, washing dishes. The others dispersed to continue making supply runs to the outlying neighborhoods. It was a few weeks walk to the coast still, and that was if all things went according to plan. She'd bet her phillip's head that it wouldn't be the case.

"We're leaving in the morning," Vegeta said. His men had followed Goku and 17 out. Tien, Lunch, and 18 had taken Chiaotzu along on for a second mission. "We've had enough rest and done plenty of supply-gathering."

She nodded. Although she agreed with Vegeta, she didn't like that he appointed himself decision-maker.

"They like having gas for cooking, a roof over their heads. It's been a nice break."

He shrugged. "I'm sure when we get to the island you can set something up."

Not gas, but he was right. She could rig up a comfortable system. Her head was spinning. Building a wood burning furnace would be simple. If they had a steady supply to burn it could heat water not only for cooking but showers too. Bulma glanced at the dirt caked beneath her fingernails and exhaled.

"We need to talk."

He lifted one brow. "Aren't we?"

"In private," she added. Even though no one was within earshot apart from the two women swapping recipes at the sink.

Vegeta led the way through the front door, down the porch steps and into the thicket of trees surrounding the property. When they were a few yards into the woods, he turned towards her and shot her a look of impatience.

"You can't go around shooting flares into the sky, Vegeta. You put us all in danger yesterday. It was reckless, stupid."

He smirked a bit and gave a small, inconsequential shrug. "When we're back on the road things will pick up."

"Pick... up?" she asked, the words falling slowly from her mouth. Confused, she blinked and stared at the man like she'd never seen him before. "As in… you're bored here because it's not very exciting?" And then she shook her head. "You realized we're headed to an uninhabited island, right?"

"We're helping you get there, and you're all better off now that we're around."

"We were doing perfectly find before you arrived."

"Then we'll leave."

Bulma frowned. His threat sounded empty, but she didn't want that. Although, a small sinking feeling had her wondering if the reluctance for him to go had anything to do with his ability to protect her. He was good at killing them, sure, but so was Goku. So was she.

Vegeta jerked his gun into position, staring into the north part of the woods. Bulma opened her mouth to ask what he'd heard, but thought better of pissing him off with his rifle raised. A few moments later she heard the low moans and clunky footsteps crunching leaves in its wake. A cool sweat broke out on the back of her neck like it always did. One of these days she was going to get used to Walkers, but for now she understood that holding onto her humanity wasn't a bad thing..

Vegeta lowered his weapon and a smirk tugged at his features. "It's just one."

And then he reached for the hatchet he kept strapped to his back and moved forward. The Walker lunged in his direction, but it was no match for Vegeta. He swung the weapon, taking off the thing's right arm. Black blood pooled from the amputated limb. Feeling no pain, the Walker pressed forward. Vegeta leaned his head back and released a loud, cruel chortle before stepping backwards, taunting it.

"Vegeta," Bulma warned, reaching for her pistol.

Ignoring her, he grabbed some twine from his pack and lured the figure towards a thick oak tree. When the thing was flush against the trunk, Vegeta wrapped him firmly to the tree. With each step Vegeta took, the Walker fell further into the trap until he was helpless but to fight against the restraints. Then, smirk still in place, Vegeta turned to Bulma.

"Right ear."

She stilled. "What?"

"You seem to like target practice." He inclined his head towards the struggling Walker.

The few bites of her breakfast threatened to come up. "They aren't playthings."

"They aren't human." Vegeta's voice was even. "They deserve what they get."

She stood there, contemplating his words. Thinking about his actions. His reckless, idiotic stunt from the day before that put himself and everyone in danger just for a challenge. He was a psychopath, probably. Her skin prickled with fear just standing this close to him. But he was there - strong and solid and structured and cocksure - and she bit her lip, raised her gun, squinted and lined up the little white dots just like Lunch had showed her. She squeezed the trigger, leaned into the recoil, and exhaled.

The bullet left a whelp in the tree trunk just to the right of the Walker's ear.

"Close." And even though her tone was laced with haughtiness, she knew _close_ was still a miss. When she glanced at Vegeta, she saw his impassive expression. His lips pressed in a resting frown. Why she wanted to impress this madman was beyond her. However, she lifted her pistol and tried again. Lining the sights a bit to the right, careful not to overcorrect. This time, the bullet lodged itself in the Walker's right ear. Vegeta smirked. The Walker struggled against its restraints, instinctively chomping at the two figures with fresh blood pumping through their veins. Bulma frowned and raised her pistol a third time. With a resounding _bang_ she shot the Walker through its skull. The string still held it upright, but it fell limp.

Whatever virus that infected the corpse was rendered motionless.

"They aren't human," she said, tucking the gun in the waistband of her pants. "But they used to be, and we can't forget that."

And turning on her heel, she left the dead Walker and Vegeta and his psychotic test behind.

Back at the safehouse the domesticity was in full swing. Chichi greeted her with a smile. Chichi was usually far more amicable when Goku wasn't near. Bulma thought she should probably clear the air, let the farmer's daughter know she wasn't interested in Goku in the slightest.

"So we're leaving tomorrow," Chichi said, her voice low.

Bulma nodded. "Most likely."

"Probably for the best. The sooner we make it somewhere permanent, the better." Then Chichi looked out the window to where Vegeta was tossing his hatchet into a pile of cut timber. She frowned. "That Vegeta is pretty creepy."

"Yes. But he's dedicated."

Chichi shot her a look before going back to drying the pan. "Who is going to break the news that we're leaving to your mother?"

"She'll be heartbroken."

"Who can blame her," Chichi said, setting the pan down before giving it a lingering glance. It had served her well yesterday when she'd run out of bullets. Maybe she'd take the thing along. "But peace can only last for so long. I guess it's time to get this show on the road."


	24. Krillin

**The** chicken gave another cry and struggled in his grasp. Krillin held the animal tighter and tried to keep up. Yamcha and Maron had long legs and took eager strides towards nothing. He felt a bit ridiculous, watching the pair up ahead flirt. Maron tossing her tangled blue curls around, Yamcha flashing his most charming smile. A smile that was once impossibly shy around women, but thanks to another blue haired woman entirely, Yamcha was now getting the girl.

And Krillin was stuck with ... the chicken.

"Let's break for lunch," Yamcha said, coming to a stop near a speed limit sign. A splattering of blood stared back at him, and Krillin avoided looking directly at it.

"So, are we going to eat the chicken?" Maron asked, dropping to her knees and frowning at the little bird.

Krillin shook his head. "Nah. It'll last us much longer if we use her for eggs."

Her big, pouty lips had his head reeling. "Oh," she said, and then her teeth were _biting_ those lips and Krillin dropped his gaze so he wasn't forced to look at them any longer. Her chest was spilling out of her thin blouse. Krillin's face was on fire. "I like chicken breast better than eggs."

"Me too," he managed, and even those two, small words sounded strained.

Yamcha was grinning. However, ever the gentleman he retrieved a bottle of water from his pack and took a few long glumps without saying anything. Even if he itched to tease his friend. Krillin had girlfriends before the world went to shit. But when it was just them and Roshi and Oolong and Yajirobe, rest his soul, Yamcha wondered if they'd ever see a female again.

And here she was - flesh and blood. A bit dense, but not bad looking. Rather the opposite, all soft curves and fluttering lashes. He capped his water and watch Krillin flirt.

Or attempt to.

"So, you were staying with the Red Ribbon camp?"

Maron sighed and rocked back on her heels. "Yes. They weren't very nice to me. I had to do… things, for them to keep me around."

Krillin's eyes widened. "What? Sexual things?"

"What?!" Marons eyes went wide, her cheeks ablaze, and she tossed a hand over her visible chest for good measure. "No. Ug."

"Oh. Uh. Good," Krillin finished, and then he looked to Yamcha for assistance. The taller man grinned. But before Yamcha could say anything to help lighten the tension that had lodged itself between the trio, a shot rang out. Then a second, followed shortly by a third.

"Gun shots," Krillin said, springing to his feet. He grabbed for his weapon, chicken firm in one arm. "We need to help."

Frown lines puckered Yamcha's brow. "No. We don't know who it is."

"What? It could be someone in trouble. We need to help."

"Krillin," Yamcha warned.

"Fine. You stay here, but I can't sit by while innocent people might be in trouble."

"They have guns, we don't," Yamcha was shouting, but it was to Krillin's retreating back. With a sigh, he turned to Maron. A small smile crested her features.

"He's a good guy," she said. "We should help him."

The sound of struggle was loud in his ears. Krillin picked up the pace, moving as quickly as his legs allowed him. He leapt over a pair of corpses - the already-dead kind, thank goodness - and then he saw her. A woman with thick black hair and bangs falling into her eyes. She was holding a pistol in one hand and was panting, which probably had more to do with the thick overcoat she wore in the heat of the day than with exhaustion.

She saw him, too and lifted a single, over-plucked brow in question. Krillin didn't see any others with her, but he heard a crunching of leaves behind him.

Although he was expecting Yamcha, the man stood was only a few inches taller than himself. The stranger was wielding a scowl and a wooden baseball bat. Krillin opened his mouth to ask if he was alright, when the bat collided with the back of his skull.

For the first time, Krillin appreciated the saying "I saw stars".

And then he saw nothing at all.


	25. Tien

**He** was tired of looking at trees. Maybe they'd be clear of the mountains soon. Out of the foothills and past the neverending expanse of forest. Grassy flatlands. White sandy beaches. Even the harsh angles and cold concrete of a city would be a comforting sight.

Because he was sick of all the fucking trees.

"Bulma said the road would connect through here," 18 said, continuing to cut a path through the woods. They were scouring the homes to the east of the mountain foothills. A second group had gone west that morning, and between the pair of them they should have enough supplies to make it to Yahhoy without going hungry. They could regroup there before making it to the coast. However, Tien's group had come up short so far and the sun was already high in the sky.

Chiaotzu kept pace eagerly at Tien's side. Smiling ever so often up at his oldest companion, all innocent and childlike despite the fact that he was being raised as an assassin before the turn. Lunch had been the one to suggest the boy go on the run with them. She'd noted that they weren't doing any favors, coddling him. Keeping him weaponless and unprepared. There would come a day when a bit of self defense could come in handy. Everyone needed to protect themselves, even a boy like Chiaotzu.

Yesterday, when the ex-army idiots had gone off zombie-hunting and fired a flare into the air - causing hordes of Walkers to descend upon their camp - Chiaotzu had shrieked and Raditz had been the one to protect him. Tien would make sure that didn't happen again.

So today the boy held a small silver revolver. Six bullets and a second pistol on his hip, just in case.

But with 18's bow and Lunch's rifle and the shot gun strapped to his back, Tien was confident the four of them wouldn't run into a situation they couldn't handle.

"I think I see it," Lunch said, peeking through the trees at a strip of asphalt.

18 nodded, leveled her bow, and raced ahead. Tien noted her quick, agile steps and wondered again what she'd been like Before. She was a mystery as far as he was concerned. He'd heard her complain about the dirt on her clothes, and then watched as she skillfully skinned a squirrel moments later. She and her brother were an odd pair, but they all were if he really thought about it. Normal people didn't make it far in this world.

"It looks clear," he said.

The two blonde women entered the clearing, flanking Chiaotzu while Tien covered the rear. Lunch was right. The road was still, no abandoned cars or motionless Walkers. For the most part, this part of the world seemed untouched. Tien inhaled the valley air and, for once, the trees didn't seem so bad.

18 inclined her head toward a few shingled roofs peeking over the canopy of trees. "That way. We need to find packaged water, if possible, and foods that won't require heating."

"We'll keep to the road," he replied. Turning to Chiaotzu, he grinned. "You doing okay bud?"

"Yep. It's fun out here."

Swallowing audibly, Tien pressed forward. It wasn't _fun_ , of course, but what else could he do? The roof lines fell out of sight as they continued through the valley. The mountains to their back, the sun hovering at its zenith, warming the road under their feet and limiting the shadows that would conceal any threat.

18 heard it first. Her blue eyes widened, her feet took a few, swift steps backwards. "Move," she said, voice sheathed in whisper. They followed dutifully, moving to the grass on the side of the road before the low rumbling shook his bones.

Maybe the shadows weren't always a bad thing. Tien wished there was somewhere for them to hide.

The rumbling picked up and a bulky breadtruck zoomed by. When it past, Tien exhaled and he felt Lunch relax at his side. 18, however, gripped her bow. The rumbling stopped before starting back again, the truck pulling in reverse.

They didn't need to talk. They raised their weapons, even Chiaotzu's revolver winked in the sun. Three figures hopped out of the truck, a dark-haired woman and two short, squat men which she towered over.

"Drop your weapons," the woman said, her cool voice matching the glare in her eyes. "And step back."

No one moved.

Her dark eyes narrowed. "Give us your weapons and we might let you live."

This time, Lunch squeezed the trigger. One of the squat men fell, and before Tien could comprehend much else - he fired his gun too.

The recoil from his shotgun was minimal, the spray hitting the passenger side of the breadtruck with a crescendo of sound. He didn't have long to check his shot. His shells would do less damage, but the aim was far more forgiving. At his left Lunch's rifle shots rattled off. He could see her lips moving, counting down her bullets. She dropped the empty rifle and grabbed for the pistol she kept at the base of her spine, but she flenched.

"Fuck," Lunch shouted. And then, with her pistol raised and her left eye cocked, she took out the dark haired woman and sighed.

There was silence. Tien whipped his head to where 18 stood in front of Chiaotzu. The woman grinned down at the boy.

"Nice shooting, little dude."

He smiled shyly, but didn't move from behind the safety of her leg. 18 looked over to where the three stranger lay, a frown etched on her features.

"Dammit." Lunch had her hand pressed to her shoulder. "He got me." And when she pulled her arm away Tien could see the red blood that stained her white t-shirt.

"We'll look at it back at camp," he said, but his chest was tight. Bulma kept some medical equipment and sterilizers on hand, but she wasn't a doctor. Chichi seemed knowledgeable about medicine, but her background with anatomy had come from books and animals. Lunch nodded, her face pale.

The road was still again. 18 moved to the three corpses, giving them each a tap with her boot to make sure they were dead. She paused on the dark-haired woman. A small red pendent bearing double R's was pinned to her chest. "Red Ribbon," she whispered. She shouldn't have been surprised that they'd thrive out here. She was happy, however, that they'd disposed of them first. If Lunch hadn't shot first, these enemies certainly wouldn't have hesitated to off them. She glanced over to where Chiaotzu was handing Lunch his bottle of water, and settled her view on Tien.

"I know these guys. They aren't the forgiving type."

Tien nodded. "You don't have to comfort me." Killing to keep himself alive had been a part of his job before. It didn't really bother him now. "Better them than us."

"What are you doing?" 18 inquired as Tien stepped to the back of the breadtruck. To her credit, she doesn't look upset by the carnage either. Huh, Tien laughed dryly, maybe this group was equipped to deal with this world after all.

"Checking for supplies. We have to head back and I don't want to show up empty handed," Tien replied. He undid the latch and yanked the metal door up. Tien froze. A chicken clucked. And three strangers stared back at him, wide eyed and afraid.

Tien blinked. "Well, dick."

 


	26. Goku

**Somehow** he'd gotten roped into scouring a nearby neighborhood with his brother. And Nappa. Also 17. It had been… interesting. Goku had chosen to go along with them instead of Tien, 18 and Lunch, mostly because the boys seemed more willing to stop and break for snacks. And 18 and Lunch were kind of scary.

The only other option was staying back at the house, but it there had been a lot of sitting around and it was getting fairly boring. His feet were itching to get back on the road, out where things were a touch more exciting. Goku didn't like killing Walkers, really, but it was fun fighting them. More fun than sparring with Krillin on Roshi's island. There was a sense of adventure that came being out, the urge to give it his all without any of the restraint that he felt during the late night spars with Vegeta.

Although, his ribs still ached from a kick he'd taken from Vegeta the night prior. He was 99-percent sure Vegeta lacked the ability to hold back. There were lots of things Vegeta seemed absent of, but his inability to exercise moderation had the most glaring consequence. Goku touched the tender spot and his brother snickered.

"Still bitching about that bruise?"

Goku frowned. He wasn't complaining about anything. "Just thinking about how I'm going to get him back." His tone was amicable enough, his smile teasing.

Raditz flashed his teeth. "Word of advice? Don't get caught up in a feud with Vegeta. That man can hold a grudge."

They finished the walk back to the safe house in relative silence; Goku's pack bounced against his hip - delightfully full of snacks and matches and a little red fire truck he thought Chiaotzu might like. Though the group hadn't had a lot of luck finding water he hoped Tien's crew had better luck.

The sun was working on its descent when they arrived back at camp. Nappa holed himself up in the bathroom with Bulma screeching at his back that they only got one flush. Chichi smiled at him as they approached, and when he opened his mouth to say something to her, Vegeta interrupted with,

"I'm going out."

Chichi shot him a stern look. "No stunts like yesterday. You nearly got us all killed."

Vegeta just turned and disappeared into the thicket of trees, leaving Chichi frowning at his back.

"At least Bulma can get some kind of reply out of him. Even if it isn't necessarily nice."

Goku scratched the back of his neck. Yes, Vegeta was odd but he was done thinking about the other man. At least for now. He was growing bored again, and with nothing better to do, he looked at Chichi and asked, "Would you like me to show you a few moves?"

"Moves?" she countered, one of her dark eyebrows cocking in a fashion that wasn't entirely as innocent as she put off sometimes. "What kind of moves?"

"C'mere. I'll show you."

And even though Chichi let him guide her into all of the positions, moving her arms and altering the tilt of her hips, Goku got the impression that this wasn't her first lesson. He dropped his hold of her elbow, and she watched him from the kata he'd put her in. She was relaxed, comfortable, like this wasn't the first time she'd held the pose.

"You're a fighter."

She shrugged. "I used to be."

"But you…" He was going to say that she kept to the kitchen and not the battlefield, but the words died on his lips remembering the way she'd gone about slinging her frying pan with the skillful pression of a martial arts champion. "Wow Chichi. That's pretty cool."

She lowered her head so that he chin was against her sternum, but Goku caught a bit of red staining her cheeks.

Huh.

"I could show you some stuff with the staff. It's not as good as the one my grandpa gave me, but it isn't too bad. Good at taking out Walkers."

"Uh." She looked up at him then, big dark eyes searching. He blinked back at that gaze, unsure of what he was supposed to do. "No thank you Goku. I should probably help Mrs. Brief with dinner. You have fun beating the shit out of air, though. I uh - I'll let you know if we need anything."

And then she was running off toward the house without looking back. Goku blinked again, raised his staff, and practiced fending off imaginary enemies. Women were weird, and it wasn't just 18 and Lunch that scared him.

No, even though he'd known her since they were kids, Bulma scared him half the time. And then there was Chichi. Who terrified him for a different reason altogether.

.

He'd had a nice long spout going through his forms when Vegeta emerged from the woods with a pair of dead possums slung over his shoulder. Goku's stomach rumbled and he dropped the staff along with the kata he was holding.

From her vantage point as watch, Bulma saw Vegeta coming first. Jumping from the porch railing, she started in Vegeta's direction, her shotgun swinging lazily at her side.

"Goku, go tell mom Vegeta's come back with dinner," she said as she passed him. Goku nodded obediently. Halfway to the porch he could already hear them shouting at one another.

The front door smacked back into its frame, but neither Chichi nor Mrs. Brief glanced up. They were both staring out the window, watching the pair arguing on the yard. Goku joined them at the near the sink. Bulma had her hands balled at her sides, Vegeta was smirking. Dead animals still dangled over one of his shoulders.

"They should just screw already," Mrs. Brief sang, smiling fondly at the pair. One of which was her daughter. The other a psychotic man who delighted in killing Walkers and got off on bossing people around. Goku frowned.

"So," Chichi remarked. "Possum for dinner?"

Goku liked any excuse to eat meat. Chichi and Mrs. Brief were capable of making anything taste delicious, even wild game that wasn't really intended for dinner.

"We didn't find much water," Goku admitted, his voice low. "I think…"

"We'll be fine." Chichi's grin was tight.

Between the three of them they didn't have any grand ideas to remedy the water situation, they stood in silence, watching the pair still arguing in the yard. After a few minutes, Vegeta stormed off and slammed the possum down in front of Nappa, who'd left the confines of the house's bathroom and was now napping near one of the Walker traps.

Bulma thundered in shortly thereafter. Her eyes were bright with anger that brought Goku back to fearing all of these women. As a whole, they were probably more of a threat than the Walkers most the time. She took a deep breath, looked at him and asked,

"Did you find any water?"

"... No," he admitted slowly. "But we had a lot of success with everything else. We even managed to grab a couple-"

"We need water." Bulma frowned. "We can scavenge for food on the way, but there hasn't been an inch of rain since this thing started and our bottles are running out. We can't survive without water, we won'-"

"We'll find something," Chichi interrupted. "We'll make something work. We always do."

With a disgruntled nod, Bulma took a deep breath and rested her backside against the lip of the counter. Some of her anger seeming to subside, but Goku took stock of the firm line of her lips and the slight furrow of her brow. Bulma was always thinking ahead, always planning for the worst so they could avoid it.

"Alright then what did you get it?" she asked after a few painful seconds of silence.

Proudly digging into his pack, Goku showed her the contents. The matches. A tarp. The little chocolate bars with the nuts she liked so much. Those seemed to quell her anger, and Bulma even snatched one, opened it, and sunk her teeth into the slightly-melted square. If it had been one of them eating candy so soon before dinner Bulma would've been pissed. But Goku didn't say anything, just kept retrieving things from his pack, pulling out the little fire truck he'd gotten for Chiaotzu.

Bulma's eyes went wide. "Goku," she said. "You're a genius."

From the kitchen sink, Chichi and Mrs. Brief exchanged a glance. Goku blinked.

Tossing the unfinished candy bar to the side, Bulma pulled out her map and spread it open on the table. Her eyes darted around the topography, her finger moving over its surface, pausing on the little towns the dotted the foothills of the mountains.

Goku just stood there, holding the toy truck and watching Bulma work. When he looked back over to Chichi, she just shrugged. And then he raised his gaze to the window. A group of people were approaching, blurred figures in the distance. Not Walkers since they stood in a straight line and walked with an agile grace. He grinned.

"I'm going to give Chiaotzu the truck," he said, turning to the door. Once outside, he stilled. Tien was there on the group's edge, Chiaotzu keeping pace happily at his side. But there were others wedged between Lunch and 18. Three people that hadn't set off with them that morning. Goku's heartbeat picked up a fraction as recognition set in.

Before the newcomers were halfway into the yard, Goku's legs were carrying him past Vegeta and Nappa. Past the cluster of Walker traps. Past Tien and Chiaotzu.

"Krillin!" he greeted, his grin blinding. "You're here! You're alive! I can't-" And then he froze. "Wait. We were supposed to be coming to _you_ guys," Goku said. "What are you doing here?"

"We were on a supply run and ran into some trouble," Krillin responded. Tien and the other seemed confused, but Goku pressed on.

"Well, I can't believe you're here. You too, Yamcha!"

The taller man smiled, his eyes moving to the strangers behind Goku. Rough, intimidating men he didn't recognize. They didn't seem interested in their arrival as they went about their business.

"We got knocked out and came to in the back of a bread truck," Krillin began. "We don't know where we are or how long it's been. Thankfully these guys, your… friends, they saved us. This," he gestured to a blue haired woman with high heels and tangled hair, "is Maron."

She grinned. In her arms, a chicken sat watching him with beady eyes. "Oh! Your friend is _cute_!" she said.

Goku frowned at the chicken. The animal frowned back. Then Bulma was there, pushing Goku aside and tossing her arms around Yamcha's neck. She held herself up on her toes and pulled back from the embrace.

"You're alive," she said.

"Yeah."

She released him and took a step back. "Vegeta," she called, turning to the man who was busy frowning at a possum. "I have an idea I'd like to run past you if you have a moment."

And as Bulma turned and headed back into the house, Vegeta handed Nappa the animal and followed dutifully after her. With a confused expression, Yamcha watched the exchange.

After introductions, the group sat around the dining room table. Chiaotzu, Tien and Raditz had been downgraded to a card table, but they were all able to sit in the same room with the help of two folding chairs and a ripped recliner. Mrs. Brief presented cooked possum with potatoes and turnips. Not luxury meal in its own right, but when Bulma announced that they would be back on the road in the morning, everyone ate up.

There were 15 of them. "It's going to be crowded," Lunch said, her eyes darting around the room. The little groups of survivors were now clumped together in a hodgepodge of soldiers and criminals and martial artists and former billionaires.

Goku grinned. "The more the merrier."

"Tell us about the island," Tien said, ignoring Goku's optimism in favor of down-to-earth practicality.

"It's… small," Krillin admitted. He glanced at Yamcha who nodded and added,

"There won't be much room, but we'll make it work. There's a larger island nearby, somewhere we could expand to if we needed."

"We have seeds," Krillin said.

"And a chicken."

"We should get fishing supplies, maybe some additional animals."

"We could make it work there, wait out a cure," Krillin continued. "These things, eventually they'll starve. Or someone will find a cure."

Bulma bit her lip and Yamcha leveled his gaze on her. "I'm surprised you aren't searching for one."

She shrugged. "Have to survive first. When we get somewhere safe, we'll see. I'll probably get bored there anyway."

"The real issue is that we're almost out of water," Chichi cut in.

"Actually, I think we have a solution for that." Bulma grinned at Vegeta, who just continued to look jaded about the whole thing. Goku knew he wasn't all that thrilled about even _more_ people hanging around, but he didn't try to turn them away. Krillin and Yamcha knew about the island. They'd been to the coast and knew the condition of the cities there first-hand.

"What's the plan?" Tien asked.

"Goku, go get the truck for Chiaotzu, and I'll explain."


	27. Raditz

**The** sun beat against his skin. He could feel the layer of sweat collecting on the back of his neck, and he swept some of his hair out of the way, the thick mane hot on his fingers. Black hair could do that. He glanced up ahead where Bulma led the way, her blue hair pulled into a ponytail swinging with each of her purposeful strides. Mocking him.

"You okay?" the woman at his right asked, her smile innocent as she worked to keep pace. She was a new arrival for the day before, and though he tried, Radtiz was unable to remember her name.

Her blue hair was a wild crown around her head. Sex hair. He dropped his gaze to her long, tone legs and unapologetically assessed the rest of her. When he met her gaze, she was still smiling.

"You've still got that chicken," he said conversationally.

She shrugged. "I don't know what else to do with it."

He'd rather just eat the damn thing. And he wouldn't mind having a taste of her, either. 18 barely looked at him any more and part of him wondered if he swapped his attention, maybe she'd notice. Maybe she'd…

He shook his head. He was done being pathetic.

"So where are we going anyway?" the blue-haired girl asked. He should probably ask her name. Instead he shrugged and replied,

"I'm not sure. Vegeta isn't the type to explain."

She nodded. "Is he the leader?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Her lips pursed, her eyes on the pair up front. Vegeta, gun resting on his shoulder, and the female at his side taking up the lead. "I thought the bossy woman was."

Since Raditz didn't know what to say to that, he shrugged. Not only was he overheating, he was thirsty. They hadn't run out of water yet, and he had not shown any signs of dehydration, but with their supply this low it made his mouth feel dry. Bulma had mentioned a plan, but the sky wasn't falling and all of their home and store raids had come up empty.

Whoever had scoured this area had done a thorough job. The Red Ribbon Army, Tien said, his features hard. Raditz didn't know why they were scared of some puny group of bandits who'd gone and named themselves. They shouldn't be afraid of anything, Radtiz decided. Not with their impressive stash of weapons that they were perfectly capable of using.

The woman next to him struggled with the chicken, a frown maherring her features. Instead of laughing, he said,

"Here. Let me carry that for you."

"Oh." She blinked as she passed the animal over. Raditz felt the little beast settle in his arms and he wondered again for the millionth time why they hadn't cooked it already. They were out on the road again, where good food was scarce. Maybe Nappa was happy to feast on wild possum and canned vegetables, but he craved a little something … more.

One of the other newcomers materialized at her side then. A tall man with dark hair. Raditz wondered if he was baking in this sun, too.

"Here Maron," he said, grinning. "Let me take your bag for you."

She handed over the bag with another giggle. "Thanks Yamcha."

Maron. Raditz repeated it a few times in his head, trying to commit the name to memory. She giggled more than Mrs. Brief around Nappa. Which was a lot.

"No problem," Yamcha said, sliding her pack over his shoulder so that it rested against his own. He had a baseball bat he'd confiscated from the Red Ribbon Army - they'd taken all their weapons and supplies, even though they'd only had two bottles of water on hand.

And then Raditz frowned. Apparently there was competition. This Yamcha lingered at Maron's side, all smiles. The short one was also sending her a slanted look, and even 17 seemed to take notice of her.

Before he had a chance to puff out of his chest, however, the road came to a four-way intersection.

"This is the road," Bulma said, inclining her head to one of the nondescript streets.

Vegeta nodded, and she continued on that way. Raditz watched the pair talk up ahead. They didn't bother to conceal their voices, but they clearly weren't interested in hearing from the remainder of the group.

A quarter of a mile later, four Walkers lingered on the street, turning their heads as the group approached. Against 15 in total, they held little to no threat. But they didn't understand basic logic. They had no instict to run. Instead, they faced the group with long, hungry moans and empty eyes.

"Save your bullets," Bulma commanded, and Vegeta, Nappa, and Goku stalked forward. Hatchet, knife and tree-limb-turned-staff took out three easily. 18 leveled her cross bow and finished off the final zombie. As Nappa wiped the blood from his knife, 18 bent beside the fallen Walker and retrieved her arrow. It was fairly unpleasant, the feel of prying it out of the middle-age man's skulls. It was softer than it should've been. Probably why they were easier to kill.

"We're going to break into two groups. Goku, there should be a sporting goods store here. Look for any weapons, knives, camping gear. But mostly we'll want fishing supplies for when we make it to the island." Bulma addressed the group at large, her voice even and no-nonsense. "Raditz, Vegeta, Krillin and I are going to find water."

And with that, Raditz handed Maron the sleeping chicken and watched as she broke off with the larger group. It made sense; if successful they would have more to carry.

They walked in opposite directions, silence lingering between them. From his periphery, Raditz watched Krillin open his mouth a few times before thinking better of it and biting his lips back together again. Raditz fought the urge to laugh. The pair ahead continued on, with an obvious plan they felt no need to expand upon, and Raditz just hoped he'd have a chance to kill some Walkers.

They walked a few blocks from where the separated. Fishermen City was a small town on the foothills of the mountains, where the wide mouth of the Frypan river curved into a few rows of delpidated houses and mostly boarded up shops.

Bulma turned on Main Street and paused.

"Here we are," she said, stopping in front of the large doors to a firehouse.

Vegeta knocked the butt of his axe against the metal garage door, alerting all Walkers in the area of their position. A small wave came first. Two women with rotting flesh hanging from their skulls and a teenage boy wearing one clunky sneaker. Bulma grimaced. This town must've been hit early. The Walkers were in poor shape, moving sluggishly on brittle bones.

Quickly closing the distance, Raditz took out the first two Walkers, pushing one back with his forearm and smashing his hammer against its skull. Another group came from behind, but Krillin and Vegeta made quick work of them.

Bulma exhaled after a few moments of silence. Then she gave a few tugs at the garage door.

"A little help here?"

Raditz laughed and yanked the garage upward. Inside two shiny red firetrucks sat. At his side, Bulma beamed.

"Better than I thought."

Raditz frowned at the truck. He looked over to Krillin who was wearing an equally confused expression. His hammer dripped at his side, and he wished he had something other than his pant legs to wipe it with.

"If we're lucky, these babies hold 400 gallons of water a piece," Bulma explained. "If we're _really_ lucky, they'll have enough fuel to carry us to the coast."


	28. Krillin

**He'd** been a monk. And a ninja. But he'd always really kinda, sorta secretly wanted to be a fireman.

And sitting on top of the red engine he felt a bit like his was living out some of those childhood dreams. Although there had never been zombies in the equation, no matter how many times he'd thought it up.

Bulma was behind the wheel, jerking the truck around precarious potholes and the occasional Walker. Although they were still in the foothills of the mountains, the further east they moved the bigger the groups of undead became. Krillin knew the population was far more dense in this direction, but surely there was a city somewhere that stood unscathed… There had to be others out there. Survivors, just like them.

Vegeta and Nappa rode in the cab with Bulma, and Krillin counted himself fortunate that he didn't have to listen to the conversation inside. Instead, he rode alongside Yamcha and the wonder twins who sat huddled together. Chin-length hair blowing behind them, identical sets of ice-blue eyes trained forward. As though nothing about ripping through the mountain pass on a firetruck was exciting to them.

The second truck was behind them, and the others kept a respectable distance as the thicket of Walkers was sometimes difficult to weave through. The foothills sank but the road kept up, edging forward into a long suspension bridge. He saw it a moment before he felt and heard the brakes of the truck. His throat was dry. 18 was on her feet, bow at the ready. No fear betrayed her features, which left Krillin feeling more than slightly pathetic since he found he was in good standing to piss himself.

"Shit," Yamcha cursed, eyes on the wreckage scattered across the road. An overturned truck blocked the width of the bridge. Two burnt out cars twisted in the wreckage. And at its center three Walkers crowded a bloody heap Krillin could only assume was… He looked away. Four hallowed skeltons rested a few yards away. He felt the bile rise to his throat. Felt his hands get a bit clammy.

"They're monsters," 17 said, his voice even.

"Don't be surprised." 18 lined up the sights of her crossbow and squeezed the trigger. She pulled a second arrow from her quiver and took out another Walker. With a third she eliminated the final Walker. Then with feline grace she leapt from the top of the truck and landed in a crouch on pavement.

Krillin hadn't ever considered being a superhero as a child, but if he did he thought it might look something like 18.

"Hey, Krillin - you okay?" Bulma called from the ground. One of her hands was cupped over her brow as she checked up on him.

He shook his head and climbed down the ladder, damp palms slippery on the rungs. Yamcha followed him down the ladder while 17 went to help his sister retrieve her arrows from the slayed Walkers.

"We have two options: turn back and try another route or move the wreckage," Bulma said. Her eyes were on the overturned truck, and Krillin knew she was thinking up ways to shove the semi truck off the side of the bridge.

"Or we continue on foot." Vegeta shrugged, resting his hatchet on one shoulder.

"No. You've seen how the roads are. It's too crowded here. It's not worth the risk."

He smirked. "Fine then. Let's get this shit out of our way."

Krillin watched as Bulma - competent, too-smart-for-her-own-good Bulma - grinned and led Vegeta to the wreckage, like she was showing off the early stages of one of her experiments. From the corner of his eye, he could feel Yamcha watching the pair too.

After dating her for years in their teens, Yamcha knew Bulma better than the rest of them. It was probably why he kept his thoughts regarding her actions to himself.

"Why don't we just use the firetruck to push it aside," 17 suggested.

"We'll have to," Bulma conceded. And she looked more than slightly off-put by the simple solution. All the car parts and twisted metal at her disposal, and they were once again reverting to brute force. "The others shouldn't be too far behind. We'll wait for them and use both trucks."

Content to wait, Vegeta and Nappa leaned against the side of the bridge, and Krillin decided staying close to Yamcha and Bulma was his safest bet. 17 and 18 weren't very social, and the others, well, they were downright frightening.

"I wonder what's taking the others so long," Bulma mused aloud.

Yamcha frowned. "There were Walkers on the road. Maybe Tien wasn't able to dodge them. They might've gotten held up."

"Or perhaps he just waited it out," Krillin supplied. Hope wasn't high, and he could see the worry wearing on Bulma's features. "They probably just-"

"Get out your weapons," Vegeta snapped, cutting him off mid motivational speech. When Krillin turned, he froze. Far more frightening than a trio of Walkers feasting on a corpse was the horde approaching them from the way they'd come.

Bulma pulled out her pistol with a shaky hand. "It's the Walkers from the road. They… they must've followed us."

"Get behind the truck," Vegeta said. And to his credit, his voice was calm. In control. Like he'd been barking out orders in situations like these far longer than the pandemic had been wreaking havoc on their world.

Krillin did as commanded, taking shelter behind the overturned semi. Bulma shook like a leaf at his right, but he didn't have the breath to comfort her. On his other side, 18 crouched with careful precision.

"Vegeta," Bulma began. "Lunch has the extra ammo, and there's at least 50 of them. We won't make it."

"That's roughly seven Walkers a piece. Make your bullets count."

Krillin gripped the pistol, doing the math as he felt the weight of the extra clip in his back pocket. Before he could even aim, Nappa was standing - tossing back his head and releasing a barbaric growl. Semi-automatic rifle in hand and no other magazines to speak of, Nappa began shooting into the horde.

The Walkers came in a wave, gaining ground quickly despite their lack of speed. Krillin cocked his pistol, putting a round in the chamber and fired. The bullet sailed through the shoulder of one of the Walkers. A male, grey skin stretched tight over an emancipated skeleton. The flesh broke but didn't bleed. The Walker stumbled but didn't fall. Krillin aimed again and this time the bullet didn't even graze the thing.

"Shit," he mumbled. Bulma was firing away on one side, 18 was already out of arrows and had moved on to a small six-shooter she kept in her pack. They were counting on him to take out his share. Krillin leveled the sights and squeezed the trigger. The bullet sailed through the Walker's skull and the skeleton crumpled to the ground. He turned and took out two more. The horde was close now. Too close.

"Move back," Vegeta commanded. 18 dropped the empty revolver and drew her knife. Krillin followed her, walking backwards, Bulma quick on his heels.

The horde descended upon them, Walkers grabbing blindly for flesh, following basal instincts as they snapped their jaws and tugged at his clothes. Krillin stumbled backwards. Yamcha smashed one's skull in with his baseball bat. 18 was taking on two with her knife drawn.

He dropped the clip and put in the replacement. _Make each bullet count._ Vegeta's words echoed in his mind. Krillin raised the pistol and took out the one closest to 18. Then he turned and took out two more closing in on him. It didn't take much to take them out, just a single blow to the head. He gained confidence with each kill.

The crowd was thinning until it was under a half-dozen left still grappling for them. Bulma groaned from the ground and pushed a dead Walker off her, stumbling to her feet. Vegeta knocked one back with the butt of his gun; 17 caught his breath at his sister's side. When Krillin turned, he discovered Nappa resting against the overturned semi.

Silence settled around the group. The Walkers had been taken out, but no one celebrated. Nappa sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and clutched his left hand.

"You alright?" Vegeta asked, crouching at his companion's side.

Nappa squeezed his eyes shut. Blood pooled between the slits of his fingers, dripping to the concrete.

Vegeta raised his gun.

"No," Bulma shouted, stepping in and kneeling next to him at Nappa's side. "Nappa. Look at me." Her voice was soft, calming. "Were you bitten?"

He lifted one hand to reveal that a chunk of meat from his left palm had been removed.

" . must'.ve. gotten. me," he growled in pained, stinted syllables.

Bulma smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "You're going to have to trust me."

Nappa looked to Vegeta. "He's going to. have to shoot me. or I'm going to. turn. into one of. them."

"Vegeta," Bulma continued calmly. "Give me your hatchet."

From beside her, Vegeta blinked. Despite his confusion he extended the weapon and Bulma took it. In her gentle voice, she continued,

"This is going to hurt a little."

Before he could compute her actions, Krillin watched in horror as Bulma swung the hatchet blade down on Nappa's wrist. The weapon arched, higher than was necessary, and sunk into the man's flesh, causing Nappa to howl in pain.

"You fucking bitch," he hissed. But Bulma ignored him and raised the hatchet once more. This time, the blade sunk deeper. Despite his protests, she hacked a third time. Nappa's hand fell the the pavement with a sickly thud, and Krillin glanced away from the blood. He looked at the truck. Yamcha's pale face. Even to where the wonder twins stood, wearing matching expressions of shock.

Nappa continued with his stream of curses. Mostly derogatory terms aimed at everyone's favorite genius. When Krillin chanced another glance, Bulma had removed her overshirt was fastening a tourniquet for the wound.

"It's just a theory, but I think you'll be fine," she explained. Behind her, Vegeta stood, frozen. "We know that getting bit Turns a person, but it takes a while for the blood to circulate and for the fever to set in. I don't think it would work with a shoulder or torso, but I think with a limb…"

"Goddamned bitch. You fucking…" Nappa stopped to gasp for air, and Bulma rocked back on her heels and handed over Vegeta's hatchet.

"It's just a theory."

Vegeta nodded, and Krillin wasn't sure, but the man looked a tad stunned. Turning from Nappa and the severed hand, Vegeta frowned at the pile of Walker corpses scattered around the bridge.

"It's getting late. We'll find a spot to camp for the night."

And even though Krillin felt like his heart had dropped all the way to his knees, he followed the group back across the bridge and into the trees. 17 unfurrowed his sleeping bag and settled in for bed while the others sat on a fat capsized tree trunk for dinner.

Nappa held his arm, an occasional grimace of pain escaped him, but for the most part he just stared at the bloody tourniquet with a look of bewilderment. Krillin opened his mouth to tell him he owed Bulma his life, but instead thought better of it and bit his lips together.

"The other truck made it through. We lured most of the Walkers on the road away," Bulma said. "They'll be looking for us."

Yamcha nodded. 18 frowned. Vegeta bit into his protein bar and ignored them. Krillin exhaled and wondered if he'd be able to get a wink of sleep that night. When everyone retreated to their sleeping packs except Bulma - who had volunteered to take first watch - and Vegeta - who hadn't trusted her ability to stay up, or perhaps Nappa's ability not to Turn in the night - Krillin leaned back and inhaled the scent of grass and took in the brilliant canopy of stars. The sky was unhindered by the usual glow of city lights, and despite everything it was rather breathtaking.

"What you did for Nappa," Krillin heard Vegeta's gravelly voice from his place on the log. And even though it was a private conversation, Krillin concentrated on the rest. He hadn't heard Vegeta say much, but he'd given off the vibe of a sociopath. A man eager to slaughter Walkers for the thrill of it all. It made Krillin's blood a bit cold, his stomach a tad queasy. Vegeta grunted, waging war with himself. "You didn't have… You saved him."

"Probably," Bulma replied flippantly.

"We didn't care if the rest of you died when we shot that flare the other day." There was silence, and then, "I promise to keep my men in line in the future."

She laughed. _Laughed._ Krillin frowned, wondering if Yamcha was still awake.

"And yourself?" Bulma asked.

"I will do what I deem fit."

Krillin heard her exhale. "I guess that will have to do. For now, at least. But you're one of us. If we make it to the island, you're going to have to start acting like it."

Vegeta made a frustrated sound from the back of his throat. "I won't lower myself to acting like Kakarot, or any of those other weaklings."

"It isn't fun fighting Walkers," Bulma said, as though dismissing his commentary entirely. Sometimes Krillin wanted to shake her. As it was, he stared at the endless display of stars and tried not to qualify what he was doing as eavesdropping. "What happened to Nappa could have been worse. It's dangerous out here."

"What happened to Nappa won't happen again. And what you did for him… He owes you his life."

"Are you trying to thank me?" she asked, a teasing note in her voice.

"No."

Silence settled around their camp. Krillin closed his eyes and listened to the sound of someone wrinkling the aluminum wrapping to a protein bar. He heard Bulma exhale, and just when he thought he'd hear nothing else from the evening, Vegeta spoke.

"In our squadron, we had a code. If a soldier was wounded, we didn't risk another life trying to save them. If they could keep up, they did, and if their abrasions were life threatening we'd put them out of their misery or leave them behind."

"That's awful."

"There are worse things."

A beat of silence at then Bulma asked, "And you were their leader?"

"I was in charge of Nappa and Raditz's squad, but I was set to lead the entire division just before everything went to shit. I'd been trained, groomed my entire life for this job and the second my father decided to step down, the moment it was finally within grasp…" his voice trailed. Krillin watched the stars with little interest.

"The Walkers, they took it from you."

"They've taken everything from us."

"Not our lives," Bulma replied. "Not ourselves."

Krillin knew this wasn't a moment he should be listening in on, so he turned to his side. When he opened his eyes, 18 was in her sleeping bag, looking at him.

He blinked. Flushed. And whispered,

"Beautiful night."

She quirked a single brow in his direction and turned away without a word. Krillin exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. And after what felt like an eternity, he finally succumbed to sleep.


	29. Tien

**The** first step was to pour the water in. The second step was to be patient.

And so, with as much patience as he could muster, Tien watched the water as it drip-drip-dripped to the bottom of the plastic bottle. Bulma had explained the importance of filtering the water weeks ago, about the different chemicals she'd fitted into the filters and of the ill effects they could run into if they didn't bother being patient. However, he was parched and just a few feet away the firetruck was spurting water into a big plastic bin Goku had dragged from the woods. When it was full, it took Lunch, Goku, and Raditz to shut the water off again. Chichi had complained that they'd wasted too much, but Tien was confident they had plenty to spare.

They weren't going to be able to take the trucks to island, as far as he was concerned, and besides - their biggest fear shouldn't be thirst right now. About an inch of water settled into the bottom of his bottle and he sighed. No, their biggest fear wasn't water - it was finding their friends.

Bulma, Yamcha, Krillin, 17, 18, Vegeta and Nappa had been in a truck ahead, but there had been too many Walkers. Too many, and though they'd fought their way through, they ended up having to backtrack a bit just to get out of the thicket of reanimated corpses.

"Water and then when go," Chichi said, sitting cross legged on the pavement beside Goku. Mrs. Brief sighed, shaking her water bottle as though to speed up the process. Tien wondered briefly it it'd work, and then tried to remember the second step: Patience.

"We should just go on without them." This from Lunch which, unsurprisingly, he found himself having to convince once again that it was good day to be a decent person. Besides, Mrs. Brief's daughter was in that second truck. Raditz's friends. And there was Chiaotzu to consider. The boy had seen enough loss, it wouldn't be right to give up on their friends now.

So he stopped staring at the slow trickle of water and instead concentrated his energy on Lunch. "You know we have to."

"I know you want to." She blew out a breath, a strand of blonde hair flying upwards as she did so. "I should just go out on my own."

"Then go." And for the first time, he thought he meant it.

She stilled. Looked at him, a little frown was always playing on her lips, but just then it touched the rest of her features. He felt a bit like he'd let her down, like she counted on his optimism, counted on him anchoring her to the rest of these people. Tien shook his head.

"You know we have to go after them. They're alive."

"Maybe."

"They might need our help."

"Probably."

She lifted her head to where Maron stood, twisting a lock of tangled hair with her ring finger as she flirted with Radtiz. To his credit, Raditz didn't seem to mind. In fact, he looked a little pleased with the attention of the babbling woman.

"She's a model," Lunch observed dryly.

Tien smiled, looking at the young woman in the ridiculous heels. She was still blinking rapidly, still giving herself a hair tourniquet. "You girls don't like her."

Lunch shrugged. "I don't like anyone."

But Tien was fifty-percent sure she liked him. Not romantically, no - Lunch was level-headed enough not to get caught up in silly emotions like that while her life was at stake - but of all the friendships he'd formed after the Turn, hers might've been the most important.

Goku called for everyone to get back on the truck, a fierce determination in his eyes, one of those rare glimpses at leadership that took Tien aback for a moment. He took his place behind the wheel of the fire engine, turned the wrench the way Bulma had shown him, and listened as the diesel engine roared and chugged to life.

They rode in silence. Goku at his side, Maron, Chiaotzu, and Ms. Brief behind him. Up top the others stood - Raditz, Lunch and Chichi with their weapons at the ready, playing sniper to the Walkers who lingered along the road.

As they turned the bend and approached a bridge, Tien lowered his foot on the brake until the truck came to a halt. On the suspension bridge was the second firetruck. It was parked, red paint throwing off the bright rays of morning sun. No one moved around it, only a pile of bodies that lay ominously still. Tien threw open the door and followed Goku toward the wreckage. An 18-wheeler lay on its side, blocking the path of the bridge.

"There are least 50 of them," Chichi said, her eyes wide as they took in the mess of corpses.

"They're all Walkers," Lunch supplied. She looked less surprised by the display, but Tien noted that she searched the wreckage. "I don't see any of our's."

"Guys," Maron called, a tremor of terror in her voice. Everyone came to where she called, making a circle around the object that had warranted her fear. "It's… A hand."

Raditz frowned. "A big hand. Nappa's, probably."

"They got away," Goku said, lifting his gaze from the bloody, severed hand and looked toward the trees. "They killed these Walkers and got away. They're probably in those woods."

"Some of us should check the woods while the rest of wait by the truck in case they come back," Chichi offered, waiting for Goku's nod of approval.

"Lunch and Raditz, you go that way. Tien and I will take that side, and we'll meet back here in two hours."

Tien said goodbye to Chiaotzu and told him to stay near Chichi, who was busy talking to Goku in a hushed whisper, wringing her hands and biting her lip nervously. Goku smiled, said something Tien couldn't hear, before tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. From his place yards away, Tien could see Chichi flush, and as Goku turned and walked in Tien's direction, Chichi stood with her hands clutched in front of her, her cheeks still burning red.

They didn't say anything. Tien took a swig of water and followed the path Goku cut through the woods. They only encountered one Walker, and Goku took him out easily enough - swiping his bo staff across the back of the Walker's knees. Tien sunk his knife into its skull as it writhed helplessly on the ground and they continued on.

When they entered a small clearing, they lowered their weapons. Bulma jumped up, her look of joy evaporating the moment she saw them. Vegeta turned and from his side 18, Nappa, and Krillin went back to cooking something over a small campfire.

"Goku, Tien," Bulma said, embracing them each and then turning to Vegeta. They shared another worried look, and she bit her lip. "We knew you guys weren't far behind."

"We saw the wreckage," Tien replied.

"Did you see anyone else?"

Goku blinked. "Like who?"

"Yamcha and 17. They left this morning to see if you guys made it to the truck." Bulma frowned, her skin pale, her eyes searching. "They never came back."


	30. 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guyyyys. 30 chapters! I know it would be like 5 chapters if anyone else was writing this shit, but I'm writing it and this is Chapter 30!

 

 **The** others might've given up hope, but her brother was out here.

He was a survivor. Their dad had stressed it, and they'd been prepped for a scenario like this, been ready for this very situation long before the others even got an inkling of the Turn.

She pushed her way through the brush, tossing aside the low hanging limbs and thorny little bushes that sought for purchase on her clothes. The short guy - Krillin - was on her heels. She'd caught him eavesdropping the night before, caught him straining to listen to Bulma and Vegeta's conversation. She'd been listening, too, but she was more curious why a smart girl like Bulma was allowing herself to be tangled with the angry little troll. Not that it mattered to 18. These people could do whatever they wanted. Be as foolish as they could, she didn't care.

17 was alive. He had to be. She didn't know about the other guy, Yamcha, but 17 had made it. He wouldn't give up, couldn't get caught. He'd… She dropped to her knees, studying the way the leaves had scattered over the earth.

"See the way they've been dragged? Those are Walker tracks, not human," Krillin said.

"I know that," she snapped, but she was somewhat impressed that he'd picked up on them. He'd been, what? a martial arts student with Goku. Hn. She didn't trust any of them, except maybe Bulma Brief whose dad was working towards finding a cure with her own father. They had a common goal. The rest of them…. They were just assistance in helping her stay alive.

17 was the only one who mattered, and if he was gone… No. She shook her head. She refused to think beyond that. If 17 was gone, she might as well be, too. What did it matter? What point was there to living in this hellish world alone?

"That doesn't mean they aren't alive, it just means there are Walkers near," Krillin said, and damn him for trying to soothe her.

"I'm not a child. Don't talk to me like I'm one." Although, as she said it she felt a bit childish. So she hardened her glare and watched with a bit of satisfaction as he took a step back and raised his hands in surrender.

"I don't want to fight with you. I'm just looking for Yamcha."

She continued on, stewing in silence. The tracks ended and a dead Walker lay on its back. A knife wound to its skull was visible, but with its already rotting flesh and dark blood it was difficult to tell if the kill was recent.

Krillin knelt at the Walker's side and closed the woman's eyes. He pulled her ripped tank to cover her midriff and situated her arms so that they rested at her sides. 18 watched him, the care he took with the corpse, the somber look on his face, and before she could stop herself she asked,

"Did you know her?"

He lifted his gaze to look at her. "No. But someone did. We can't bury all the dead, but we should treat them with respect."

18 nodded, unsure of what else to say. She watched as Krillin got to his feet, rested his hand on his gun, and searched the dirt for tracks.

She followed. Through the thicket of trees and into a big clearing where the grass came to her knees. They trotted forward in silence and she lowered her bow. There was no threat in the serenity of the field, just that eerie sense of peace. A peace that didn't belong here, not when hope was sinking quick. 17 might be gone, and the fact that there hadn't been a whisper of a cure meant her father most likely was, too.

Everyone that mattered was gone and it was just her. The clearing gave way to more woods. More fucking woods. She hacked at the branches, and even though she made a lot of unnecessary sound, Krillin stayed beside her. He didn't complain. He didn't berate her the way she deserved to be berated.

She heard them a few minutes later. The low moans, the careless rustle of dry leaves as they slugged their feet. 18 stopped, panted, and unsheathed her knife. She didn't want to use her bow, no, she wanted a fight.

She let them come to her, saving her energy until they were just close enough. She kneed the first one in the gut and tossed him over her shoulder. She stabbed the second one, and smirked just as the first one staggered back to its feet, jaw snapping and ready for her. The world blurred a bit and she saw red through the filter of her aggression. She hated these things. Krillin might've treated them with respect, but she hated them. They'd taken her father and his cure, her brother and her purpose. She didn't have anything left, so she fought.

Another three came and she took them all head-on. Waving her arm in an arc, she drove the knife blade into the back of ones neck. With gritted teeth she tried to pry the blade out, but it was stuck. She let the Walker drop and her knife with it.

18 took the next one on with her bare hands. Two punches to the skull and it staggered backwards, but no matter how much pain she brought him, he was unable to feel any of it.

A boy she'd dated a few years back had claimed she was incapable of feeling anything. But the truth was, she felt a lot. She crouched to the ground and kicked one leg out, making the Walker lose it's footing. When she got up, smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth, she felt it. A cold hand on her forearm. She tugged at it, tried to pry free, but to no avail. A Walker had her in his clutches and with inhuman strength he clawed at her skin. Blood pooled from where its fingernails dug into her arm, but she fought back. Yanking with her caught arm and using her knee to hold his jaw at bay.

She looked up and froze.

There were too many. At least a dozen appearing from the trees. A wave of corpses who'd followed the sound of her frustration. Who'd taken advantage of her momentary slip.

The Walker who had her in its grasp fell limp, its body teetering to the left before hitting the hard earth. The carpet of leaves billowed around her ankles, and before she had time to wipe her wounded arm off on her shirt, a new hand fitted around her. It was warm this time, and she followed its tugs.

Krillin pulled her up and out of the trees. When they reached the clearing Krillin turned and lifted his pistol. He fired, bullets catching the pair of Walkers gaining the most ground.

18 knew if he let go of her arm, if he left her behind, they'd feast on her and he'd get out scot-free. But his grip tightened on her skin as he picked up the pace.

She followed, disappearing out of the clearing where the thick grass brushed her legs and back into the woods. When she turned, she couldn't see any Walkers, but Krillin pressed on, pushing forward until her legs shook and her lungs burned with fatigue.

He dropped her arm and leaned forward, grabbing his knees as he fought for breath.

"Stand up straight," 18 instructed. It was the fastest way to catch one's breath, after all.

He nodded, standing up and revealing pink cheeks flushed from exhaustion. He put both hands on his head and his breathing gradually went back to normal. 18 put her hands on her hips and regulated her own breathing. When she looked past him and into the woods from where they'd come, she said,

"Thank you."

Krillin frowned, opened his water canteen and took a long drink. His Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow, and when he was done he extended the canteen in her direction. She took it, drank a few sips, and handed it back.

"We should warn the others that the woods here are full of Walkers," he said. And she saw the hope evaporate from his face as he formed the same conclusion that she'd come to: 17 and Yamcha had probably faced a similar horde. The fierce hope she'd clung to was fading fast.

"It doesn't mean they're gone," Krillin said.

She met his gaze. "You should have run. You could've left me there and gotten yourself out."

His face scrunched in confusion, as if the thought had never crossed his mind.

"I wasn't going to leave you."

"I know," she replied. "But you could have."

Krillin shrugged, took another drink and said, "I wasn't ever going to."


	31. Vegeta

**He** isn't sure how he winded up stuck with this lot, but there he was. Thoroughly stuck. And he hated every single fucking last one of them. Even Raditz and Nappa planted themselves firmly on his shit-list. _Especially_ Raditz with his pathetic attempts to get laid and Nappa, now that he did nothing but bitch about his missing hand.

"It's okay," the blonde woman said, one of her hands gingerly on the crook of his arm as she spoon fed him broth. "Does that feel better?"

Nappa's eyes remained fixed on her chest. "s'getting there."

Vegeta rolled his eyes and looked away from the scene unfolding. He hadn't meant to turn his eyes to the mouth of the bridge, where the wreckage of the truck gave just enough passage for a single, dexterous man.

He could slip away. Leave these people behind. He had a pack full of food. Bulma had equipped him with a water filter. He had a rifle, plenty of ammo, a hatchet and two knives.

"Do you think we should call of the search?" Bulma said, stepping into his line of sight. He forgot about slipping away for a moment. Forgot about Nappa's bitching and Raditz's flirting.

He stretched out one of his legs and shrugged a shoulder, replying, "They're most likely dead."

She sat at his side. Comfortable. Like he didn't have a gun strapped to his back and a hatchet resting on his thighs. Like he didn't have enough military training to snap her in half without the help of any of those weapons.

Her blue eyes blinked at him.

"Most likely?" she asked, pink lips flexing to a frown. "Most certainly, I think. Goku thinks they might be holed up somewhere, but…" She shook her head, making her unwashed hair swing in its elastic. "If they were alive they'd be here."

She used to sleep with one of them, and at least some part of her still cared. He'd caught her crying near the fire the night before, worrying her lip despite trying to act calm when Goku asked how she was doing.

Pathetic. All of them.

But she looked at him like he was a callous bastard, incapable of sugar-coating the truth. She looked at him like she wanted him to contradict her. Because if he thought there was a chance Yamcha and 17 had made it, then it might be true.

It wasn't true.

"They're dead. Either picked apart or Turned."

She exhaled through her nose. "I know."

Because deep down she was a logical person, despite being scatterbrained half the time. Vegeta turned his face toward the sky. The sun was on its ascent, warm rays trapped behind a canopy of gray clouds. They might get rain after all.

"Goku wants you to go out with him today to look for Yamcha and 17."

Vegeta felt his muscles tense. He didn't want to go with Raditz's little brother, but it was rare that he'd refuse an opportunity for a little fun. "Fine," he conceded, and Bulma looked over to where Goku stood, chatting with the farmer's daughter. Or salivating over the soup she was heating.

"I'm surprised you're willing," she said. "It seems a waste of our time to go out, scouring the woods for bodies."

He didn't care much about wasting time. They had manpower and resources. The chicken clucked in the distance and Bulma filled the silence by talking,

"I was looking at the map. If we slip back into the foothills of the mountains once we pass this bridge, there should be some farms. Maybe we can find some more animals for the island. Poultry, pigs… I don't know how we'll carry them but they'd come in handy for something sustainable."

She kept talking, and he only half-listened because she wasn't really talking to him anyway. Just speaking aloud, sorting her thoughts and Vegeta wasn't sure why, but he sat patiently and let her. Just like he'd sat by the fire two nights ago and confessed to her the code of his army days after witnessing her chop Nappa's fucking hand off without blinking.

He'd be lying if he hadn't thought she had it in her. But there was something very diligent in her eyes, the sort of medical aloofness that came with performing an operation. And there he'd been, rifle raised, ready to take out Nappa because that was how things had always been done.

When a soldier was unfit for battle, you didn't risk anyone's life dragging them around, allowing them to slow you down. But with these softies, they wanted to hang out on the roadside looking for their dead friends.

"Ug," Bulma groaned, and he watched as she got to her feet. "I'm going to save my mom."

It didn't look like her mom required saving. She giggled and flushed under Nappa's attention. Besides, the old bastard could use a distraction. Though Vegeta himself wasn't interested in a distraction, he decided a decent man wouldn't stare at the ass of a woman who was on her way to thwart Nappa's advances.

Vegeta had never considered himself a decent man.

"Hey Vegeta. You ready to go?"

Not bothering to insult Kakarot, he stood and glared. The idiot only grinned.

"Alright. I figured we'd head east. 18 and Krillin said the woods to the west were crowded with Walkers."

The closer they got to the city, the more walking dead would be afoot, but that logic was probably lost on Raditz's foolish brother anyway. So Vegeta led the way east, toward the rising sun and attempted to block out Kakarot's talk of hunting while they were out.

Even if his stomach did give an audible growl at the thought of a real meal. He was tired protein bars and trail mix.

A layer of moisture clung to the beads of grass, the morning dew settling on everything and weighing the branches of the trees so they hung a bit lower in the morning fog. Kakarot was surprisingly quiet for an idiot. He sidestepped twigs and made his footsteps over the foliage soundless. They moved in unison through the thick underbrush of the forest, where the dense foothills climbed to the steep edges of the Fry Pan mountain range.

Vegeta glanced around for any sign of life, of the living or of the undead variety, but found nothing. This sliver of earth seemed untouched. Though daylight was just breaking, he wondered how long Goku planned to search but he didn't question it. There was no fear in his bones, no swell of anxiety to get to safety. He was perfectly content taking his time, fighting Walkers along the roadside until, well, he wasn't sure what the end game was. The island sounded fine, but there were a lot of them and according to Krillin not a lot of space.

"I don't see any tracks," Goku said.

Vegeta nodded. "No one's been through here."

"There's a lot of woods left. Maybe they took another route."

"Do you want to come across your friends' picked over bodies? Or perhaps you'd like to kill a pair of Walkers wearing their skin. Either option doesn't seem worth waiting around for."

Goku frowned, his eyes holding that look that made Vegeta want to straggle the optimism right out of him.

"We can't just leave without them." Goku's fists compressed at his sides. That annoying brand of determination shining bright. "Yamcha's an old friend, and 17 is 18's brother…"

"They're dead. We can hunt today but we're going back to tell the others that we found them."

Goku's jaw fell slack. "You mean lie to everyone?"

Fuck it was difficult talking to Kakarot. Like spoonfeeding information to a child.

"It's for their own good."

"Lying is never good."

Fuck. He could feel a vein throbbing in his skull. "Someone's going to die looking for them, and for what?"

"Because it's the right thing to do. If you were lost out here, wouldn't you want everyone to find you?"

Vegeta shot him a glare and didn't bother to reply. If Kakarot really thought he'd require assistance out here well, he was even dumber than Vegeta originally thought.

"You aren't in charge here, Vegeta. We're a team and you're a member of that team, but you don't get to make decisions for everyone just because."

He wasn't a member of any _team_. And to demonstrate so, he reeled back and punched the other man square in the face.

"Ouch! Dammit Vegeta!" Goku held his nose. When he pulled his hands away his eyes were crossed on his nose, his fingers dotted with blood. "What'd you do that for?"

When he went to deliver another blow, Goku dodged it easily. His frown of confusion quickly evaporated to a grin. He might not've understood where Vegeta's anger had come, but he was always up for a good fight.

He dodged the next quick attack and retaliated. Goku planted the first blow to Vegeta's left cheek, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone beneath his fist. He'd been hit more than enough times to appreciate the hit - but despite the pain Vegeta looked furious. So Goku held out an arm to fend off the next attack and used one of the first moves Master Roshi had taught him while grappling. He dipped one of his shoulders and waited for Vegeta to swing, catching him in an underhoook. From the clinch hold, Vegeta struggled.

Not only with the hold, but with the fact that he'd been outmatched.

It wasn't something Vegeta took lightly.

"We aren't leaving anyone behind," Goku said. Vegeta tried to free himself, but no avail. He knew Goku wanted his approval, and he thought about lying just to get himself free, and then he'd show Kakarot who was the stronger of the two.

Before he had a chance he heard the low growl of a Walker, and both men looked up to watch the figure drag itself into view. Some of its graying skin was hanging loose at its jaw, revealing sharp bone. Otherwise, the barefoot figure was unextraordinary. After a while, the stupid fucks all starting looking the same.

Vegeta felt Goku release him, and he fought the urge to rub his tender jaw. He watched as Goku took the bo staff from his back and approached the Walker who looked eager for its next meal. He didn't bother to watch the rest. Just got out his hatchet as the sound of Kakarot's staff ripped through the air.


	32. Goku

" **Oh** Goku," Maron giggled. She tossed her hair around her head and Goku was going to ask if she had something caught in it when she said, "You're _so_ cute."

He froze. After the fight with Vegeta in the woods earlier, his day had been a jerky rollercoaster of highs and lows - but a lot less fun. He missed the simple days where he'd go exploring with Grandpa Gohan. Or the months spent training with Krillin on Kami's island or searching for long lost treasures with Bulma. He'd like to sit on the beach, toss in a fishing pole again and to not have to worry about angry guys punching him in the face for no reason and crazy girls throwing their hair around, calling him cute.

"Uh," he said. And placing his hand behind his neck he gave a nervous laugh. "Thanks."

The sound of metal slamming into metal tore his attention away from Maron, and he looked over to see Chichi glaring at her copper pan. The pan was resting on the slatted metal campstove, and even though she seemed fixated on its contents, Goku could see that it was empty.

Oh. He remembered - he'd come to fetch eggs from Maron for tonight's pork fried rice. His stomach grumbled.

"Got any eggs left?"

Maron nodded and gently retrieved a small batch of little brown hen eggs. He stacked them as carefully as he could muster in his palms and walked over to Chichi, taking extra care with each step.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he made it to the camp stove.

"Go away, Goku," Chichi snapped.

He straightened, jostling the pyramid of eggs and watched, in horror, as the top one fought for balance, lost and tumbled to the ground with a sickening _crack._ When Goku looked over to find Vegeta looking over Bulma's map he let his shoulders sag with a sense of reprieve.

"Wha-" he began, did another maneuver to keep the eggs all in balance, and frowned. "What's wrong?"

Her eyes were narrowed as she shrugged and said, "Nothing."

Women never said 'nothing' like that and meant it. He'd been around Bulma far too long to be _that_ dense.

"I…" But he didn't know what to say. She was mad, and she had plenty of reasons to be (he'd broken one of their eggs, after all) but it seemed like she was mad about something else entirely. Something else he'd done, if the way she turned up her nose had any indication. "What did I do?"

"Nothing."

There it was again. That word. Gently, he sat the shelled eggs on the pot so he didn't have to concentrate so hard on them. The rolled around and filled up space, clanging against its surface until they were resting against the curved copper edges.

Momentarily distracted he'd forgotten that he was supposed to be apologizing for upsetting her, when she spoke first,

"I sent you to get eggs, not to flirt with Maron."

Goku paled. "Flirt?" He blinked. Frowned. And confessed, "But I… I don't know how to flirt." If he'd been flirting, than he certainly hadn't meant to. Besides, Raditz liked Maron and she was silly with her fluffy hair and ridiculous shoes. Also - she wasn't very smart.

Not like Chichi who could cook and fight and… He felt some heat rise to his cheeks listing all her qualities at once like that.

"Why don't you want me to flirt with Maron?" The words were out of his mouth as soon as he'd formed them.

She stilled like he'd caught her doing something wrong, and then took the eggs into her hands and started cracking them on the edges of her pan.

"I don't care what you do."

But she did. A slow smile tugged at his lips.

"O _kay_. But I wasn't flirting. I don't know anything about …. that."

Chichi hit one of the eggs a little too hard against the pot and frowned. "That?"

"Girls and flirting and … sex and stuff."

 _Sex and stuff_? He felt a bit more heat flush his face and he turned his head. Vegeta was still reading the map. Raditz, Krillin and Nappa were preparing tonight's wild boar. Bulma, Lunch and 18 had gone to search the woods for 17 and Yamcha, while Chiaotzu, Tien and Ms. Brief worked to cook the rice in a fat black skillet within earshot. At the moment, none of them seemed to be doing anything but listening to him.

Chichi looked up from cracking eggs and small smile bloomed across her features. "Oh," she said. And she didn't look so angry anymore. Goku grinned and opened his mouth to ask about dinner or maybe something else when Bulma's voice cut him off.

"Is dinner ready?"

Raditz frowned, half a dead pig in hand. "Does it look ready princess?"

She shrugged and tossed her rifle on the ground. "Everyone get your fill tonight. We're off in the morning."

18 took a seat on the edge of the group, not bothering to look at any of them. Goku noticed that even Lunch looked a little offput.

Krillin frowned, his eyes on 18. "Tomorrow?"

"We found two bodies," 18 spoke, her voice devoid of emotion. "They're recent kills. Unidentifiable."

Goku's stomach sunk. He could feel his hands shaking at his side, but he didn't want to stop them. When he looked over, Bulma was holding a small square photograph. He couldn't be sure, but it looked a bit like the photo Yamcha kept in his pocket of his cat from home - Puar.


	33. Lunch

**The** first truck ran out of gas and so they all crammed onto the second for another thirty or so miles. Then it puttered to a stop and Bulma ordered them all off. She then proceeded to uncap the water supply and they took all the could carry.

Lunch was tempted to bathe in it. It had been, well, she wasn't sure exactly how long it had been since she'd had a proper shower but judging by the smells wafting from Tien she guessed she wasn't in much better shape. Funny how she'd grown accustomed to living in filth but still craved cleanliness.

Her pack had a change of clothes but they were as dusty and worn as the ones she currently donned. The group ambled on for a few more miles. Nappa bitched about his hand. Goku about the bottomless pit that was his stomach. Maron about that awful smell.

What awful smell, exactly, Lunch wasn't sure. It could've been any of them.

They kept walking, and for a moment she allowed herself to enjoy the serenity of the quiet foothills. The mountains stretched on one side, pavement glistened in the afternoon sunlight on the other. She'd blocked out most of her life before the spread of the pandemic, but she didn't remember feeling this at peace then. Not once.

"Ug," Maron groaned. Raditz kept pace beside her, frowning at the chicken who was dwarfed by his bulging arms. "It _stinks_."

Lunch watched as Raditz not-so-discreetly sniffed one of his armpits, then gave a shrug as if deciding he couldn't tell one way or another if he was giving off an odor. Lunch was positive he was. She was not quite so sure that he was what had Maron scrunching her nose up at so suddenly.

"Hey," Goku shouted from up ahead obviously not paying the rest of them any attention. "It smells funny."

18 gave a sniff and nodded in agreement. "I smell it too."

Since 18 was more level-headed than Maron and Goku put together, everyone seemed to take her word seriously. Bulma craned her neck toward the woods, tilting her chin as she searched the mountains. Vegeta grabbed for his gun, staring ahead as if suddenly the scent of Walkers was their biggest give away.

It wasn't. Lunch knew you could hear them a million miles before you could see them. She inhaled but didn't catch wind of anything too absurd. Sweat. Body odor. Dirt.

"It smells like…" Chichi paused, searching for words and finally settled for, "Rotting eggs."

And then Bulma's eyes were wide, her grin manic and she took off into the woods she'd been so carefully surveying only moments before.

"It's sulfur," she called before disappearing into the thicket of trees, as though expecting everyone to follow with her same level of glee. Lunch met eyes with Tien who shrugged and started into the woods after her. Nappa exhaled unhappily but went next, and by the time she could see Bulma, Lunch was able to smell the stench Maron had been complaining of.

"Uk," she gasped, pinching her nose. Bulma however only looked pleased with herself.

"It's a hot spring," she explained. "The mountain rain and the porous rocks in this region feed these springs. I can't believe I didn't think about looking for one sooner."

"Are they… safe?" Chichi asked, peering into the water. It was clear looking, clean and though it emitted the unpleasant aroma it did have a calming effect. Not to mention the steam it gave off. Steam meant the water was warm. Lunch bit her lip. She'd look past the stench for a chance at a hot bath. Her hands shook with anticipation at her sides.

"The water is geothermally heated from the earth's crust," Bulma said, voice flippant as she gave an obvious shrug. "It's only a few degrees higher than our body temperatures. Like a nice, natural hot tub."

Lunch contemplated stripping down. Tien leaned forward and frowned at his reflection in the pool of water. "It stinks though."

"A little hydrogen sulfide won't hurt, Tien. It's just the the anaerobic bacteria converting the dissolved sulfur into…" She trailed off when she was met with their matching expressions of deadpan. Taking a deep breath, Bulma prepared to treat them in the same manner she'd explained things to the primary school groups who'd toured Capsule Corps. on their field trips. "It's perfectly safe. In fact, it's believed to be good for you."

"I say we split up," Chichi said, decidedly not looking at Goku. Lunch hid her snort at the modest girl, but decided she'd rather not bathe in the same vat of warm water as Nappa anyway. "We can take turns."

"There should be more around here. This region is full of them," Bulma offered. "The guys can go find another spring and we'll take this one. Everyone relax, bathe, and we can camp here for the night and head off in the morning refreshed."

They'd argued against pointless stops in the past, but no one seemed to view this as pointless. In fact, the men scurried away without argument, and Lunch knew they'd found a second spring the moment Goku's loud cry of glee was followed shortly by a splash. Bulma didn't say anything about them alerting them to their position. 18 either. The blonde just lifted her shirt over her head and shimmied out of her pants before lowering herself into the pool.

"They can fend off Walkers on their own," 18 said, eyes slipping closed as she submerged her shoulders in warm water. "I don't care if they all die right now."

Her feeling probably had nothing to do with the calming water, Lunch decided. Bulma and Maron stripped quickly, joining 18 in the pool while Ms. Brief took her time neatly folding her socks in a pile. Chichi flushed and made it a point not to look directly at any of them. Lunch just toed off her shoes and began undoing the buttons of her shirt. She wasn't sure if the stinky water would wash away the layer of filth that had settled on her her skin, but she was willing to give it a try.

And as she sunk into the water the moment of calm she'd experience on the road had nothing on this. The water was healing, rejuvenating. She felt light and weightless despite the solid rocks beneath her feet. It was only about five foot deep and three yards across, but large enough to swim. She held her breath and dove under, feeling the water in every cell of her body. When she lifted up, relief washed over her. She'd kept her weapons on the edge of the pool but for once she didn't want to think about using them. She just wanted to relax.

It wasn't as spa-like as she'd imagined. They could hear the males making all sorts of noise in the distance. Krillin and Goku's laughter echoed around the valley, someone shouted that they were king of the mountain. There was splashing and groaning and Raditz yelling "cannonball" at the top of his voice.

Lunch rolled her eyes and wondered how any of them had survived this long.

"Does Raditz have a girlfriend?" Maron asked, and though Lunch was positive she was wondering aloud she wasn't surprised when Ms. Brief gave a girlish giggle to disrupt her blissful moment of alleviation.

"I don't think so. If I were your age, I wouldn't pass him up. That hair, those _muscles._ "

A small frown played on Bulma's lips at her mother's words.

Maron laughed. "But you look great for your age! Besides, I've seen the way Nappa looks at you. You could get a little somethin' if you wanted."

"Oh, but I'm a married woman!"

"Your husband isn't here, so you're technically not," Maron said, her voice high as she ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the water as though her words had no consequence. And even though Lunch didn't like her much, she had to admit that she had a point. If a person wasn't sitting here in the spring or acting like an idiot in the adjacent one, there was a good chance they were dead.

Still not enough motivation to go and screw Nappa. But a point nevertheless.

"I'm too old to be thinking like that," Ms. Brief said, her naked shoulder lifting in a shrug. "But you young girls… You have _options_."

One of those options farted in the distance and the other options laughed hysterically. Lunch rolled her eyes, but didn't miss the way Chichi sighed. It was a heartachingly tragic sigh of unrequited love.

"Goku?" Lunch asked aloud, even though she hadn't meant to.

Chichi frowned. "I've tried dropping clues but…"

"He's clueless," Bulma said. "You're going to have to tell him how you feel. If you're subtle about it he isn't going to catch on."

It all felt very much like summer camp as Maron weighed in. Lunch almost wished a Walker would appear out of the trees just so they could stop talking about Chichi's lovelife. And wouldn't be empowering if one came then and they had to fight it off naked?

She laughed out loud and Chichi looked at her, her big doe eyes full of sadness.

"Do you think I'm ridiculous?"

"For wanting to find something worth living for in this world?" Lunch countered. And she replied, honestly, surprising them both, "No. I don't."


	34. Bulma

" **Hold** still you big baby," Bulma said through gritted teeth. With a hand on either of Nappa's gargantuan shoulders, she attempted to position him where she wanted. Unfortunately the old lug was as pliable as he looked.

"You going to warn me that this might _hurt a little_?" he snapped, echoing her words from before she'd chopped his hand off.

"Don't forget I saved you life, bud."

"The only thing you saved wa-"

"Bulma," her mother interrupted. "I asked you to _help_ Nappa. Be nice."

Nappa flashed her a grin. "Yeah Bulma. Be nice."

She fought the urge to chop off his other hand, but even though the thought of doling out some physical harm was nice, she knew she wouldn't hurt him. Not really. She'd only done it the first time to test her theory about blood circulation. And to keep him from Turning, of course.

"Fine." Bulma retrieved the device her mother had suggested she craft Nappa. For some reason, Mrs. Brief was worried about the man facing Walkers at a disadvantage. With deft fingers, Bulma unwrapped the gauze before slipping the metal cup over the stump where Nappa's hand used to be. She then secured the prosthetic with a leather belt, one she'd 'borrowed' from Tien, and wiped some of the water droplets from Nappa's arm. He'd gone for a second dip in the hot spring after lunch with some of the guys; it wasn't a bad decision because they'd be off in the morning. In fact, she could use a second dose of healing water herself. As a final touch, Bulma screwed a knife to the stump's end. It wasn't very pretty, but it would do.

Nappa inspected the bayonet, lifting the blade and staring at his own reflection.

"Well?"

"It's…" he replied, lowering the limb and testing the weight of it, the security of the leather strap. "Pretty bad ass."

Looking pleased with herself, Bulma nodded. "Good. The knife is removable. You should probably keep it off when Walkers aren't a threat."

"Walkers are always a threat, babe."

She planted her hands on her hips and clarified, "When they're not an imminent threat. While we're sleeping we'd appreciate you not waving a weapon around."

Rolling his eyes, Nappa walked away. Bulma watched him cross the meadow to sit on one of the rocks surrounding their campfire. Resting his elbows on his knees, he started up a conversation with Vegeta who showed mild interest in the upgraded stump. Bulma allowed a little bubble of pleasure at this; Vegeta rarely showed interest in anything. When he did it was usually in killing Walkers or eating food. Upon very rare occasion his glimpses of approval had something to do with herself.

"I should go see if he'd like a treat," Mrs. Brief sighed.

"A… treat?" Bulma deadpanned. She dusted off the back of her pants as she stood to face her mother, who was watching the soldiers talking near the flames.

"Of course Bulma. A treat. That Vegeta you've been eyeing deserves one as well."

"He deserves a treat?" she asked, more out of curiosity to discover what was going on in her mother's head than anything else.

"You know like your slice of dessert after dinner, or maybe offer to wash his shirt. These boys are so nice, and they deserve a treat every now and then."

Bulma shook her head and wondered how her mother would've fared without her help. It seemed like ages ago when she'd spotted Goku climbing over the wall of Capsule Corps.. She knew the answer before asking herself; her mother wouldn't have made it a day without them. Thankfully she had a bit more faith in her father. Yes he could be flighty and distracted, but he wasn't alone. He was surrounded by the brightest and most resourceful men and women on the planet. Surely once they'd put their heads together they'd discovered … something. She bit her lip and retrieved her gun. 18 stood on the edge of the wood, sharpening her arrows into tips. They'd blunted after so many uses, and though the blonde didn't look up as Bulma passed, she clarified,

"I'm going to put my feet in the water." Bulma checked the safety on her pistol. Red meant dead, but it was necessary to keep on guard out here. "It's been a long day."

"It's been a long month," 18 replied.

Bulma opened her mouth to provide some comfort, but came up short. There was really nothing to say. They hadn't found 17's body, so there was still a chance, but it was too difficult to live with that much hope. The pain of losing a sibling wasn't something Bulma had any experience with, and offering any sympathy felt hollow. But they had to press on, to keep living. Sometimes it felt like they'd resorted back to primal modes of survival. Sometimes Bulma wondered what the point of pushing on was at all.

But her dad would find a cure. If he didn't, then she would do so herself. Yamcha had been a dear friend. Her first boyfriend, someone she thought she'd loved. She missed him, but she knew it was nothing compared to what 18 had lost. Nothing compared to Chichi, watching her father die to save her.

So Bulma bit her lips together and kept walking. The smell of sulfur clung to the humid air and she breathed it in. When she found a small little crevice in the earth, she pulled off her boots and socks and dipped her feet in, exhaling. She sat on the ground, crossed her arms over her knees and rested her chin on one of her hands.

"It isn't safe out here alone."

She turned and smiled at Vegeta. "Well good thing I'm not."

He didn't look amused. "Put your shoes back on."

"You're such a buzz kill," she replied, even as she slipped her socks back on and began tying the laces to her boots. "Besides, you better be careful. It sounds like you're worried about me."

"Hn," Vegeta grunted, and as Bulma got to her feet she didn't miss the careful way he surveyed their surroundings but remained aware of her. "I fear for the others if they lost you. They wouldn't last a second."

"And you couldn't boss them around?" she asked, tone saccharine sweet.

"They wouldn't listen and it wouldn't be worth the effort trying. Kakarot would be forced to read the map so they'd get nowhere, and if one of them got bitten no one would think to remove the site of infection."

He started walking deeper into the sloping foothills and she followed him. Kicking some leaves aside, Bulma grinned and replied,

"Still. It's good that you worry about them."

He frowned. "I don't."

"Oh Vegeta. There's an ounce of care in that black little heart of yours." She punctuated her words by tapping his chest with her index finger. Vegeta shoved her hand away and only frowned when she stumbled, but remained on her feet.

It wasn't the first time she found herself wandering the woods alone with Vegeta. It was clear that he respected her more than the others, but she found herself trusting him most too. If her life were to be in any of their hands, well, she'd pick the most capable to entrust it with. Raditz and Nappa followed him blindly because he was their leader, but the others were always a little salty around him. Goku told her once that it was because Vegeta was too prideful. But she couldn't fault him for walking around like he was better than everyone. It was a trait they shared, and one she'd never felt the need to apologize for.

In an attempt to keep her footsteps as soundless as possible, Bulma mirrored Vegeta's steps. Stepping toe first and being careful to trod where the foliage was least dense. Vegeta walked ahead, gun in hand, hatchet strapped to his back, knife blade hanging from his belt like some action hero in a flick Bulma would've paid good money to see. She'd munch on popcorn and notice the way his black t-shirt hugged his chest. The way his arms bunched as he adjusted the rifle. The way his strong jaw clenched every time she accidentally snapped a twig because she was too busy looking at him to make proper footing.

Bulma might've been a genius and a bad ass and, sure, not bad looking herself, but attractive men had always been her weakness. Even at the most unfortunate times.

 _Especially_ at the most unfortunate times.

Through the trees Bulma spotted a two story cabin. A pile of brush sat in front of the wooden house, surrounded by a circle of stones as though someone intended to burn the tree limbs but hadn't gotten around to it yet. She gave Vegeta an uneasy look, but he wore the same jaded frown as always so she wasn't quite sure if he had the same inkling of fear.

"See how they've scattered? It's been awhile since this was gathered," she whispered, blue eyes searching the brush pile.

"Maybe something came up." With a shrug, Vegeta quickly took the two small steps onto the cabin's porch and stood by the large wooden door. Bulma took place at his side, worrying her lip with her teeth before reaching up and pounding her small fist against the door.

Silence. Vegeta's frown never wavered. "Careful," he instructed, before throwing open the door and raising his rifle. The second the door was open two lumbering figures started toward them. A male reached them first, wearing dirty jeans and a plaid shirt. Bulma raised her pistol but Vegeta got to his gun first - kicking him backwards before sinking his hatchet blade into the Walker's skull. The second figure was slower, clunkier. Bulma squeezed the trigger, catching the female Walker in the left eye. The Walker's knees gave out and she teetered to one side, falling with a soft billow of a cotton skirt. Bulma watched her sink to the ground and lay motionless.

When no other sound came from the cabin, Bulma inhaled a sigh of relief. And gagged.

"It reeks," she moaned, cupping one of her hands over her nose to keep the stench of death from assaulting her senses. She'd dealt with the same before, but the smell of rotting flesh being confined in this cabin for who knows how long… She looked over to find Vegeta just glaring around the cramped living space, searching for evidence even though they both knew what they'd find if they looked hard enough.

Finding nothing, Vegeta disappeared through the small door frame and Bulma followed. In the corner a skeleton sat hunched forward, picked over. Bulma looked away and fought the bile from rising in her throat. Vegeta seemed less affected, but she knew given his background he'd seen and caused death before.

It wasn't comforting, but it was the way things were.

He might be accustomed to it but he still struggled to fight off the smell. Vegeta stepped forward and retrieved a revolver that had been abandoned on the dining room table. He pressed his thumb against the cylinder release latch, and his frown deepened as the cylinder swung outward to reveal its contents.

"Only two bullets." He shoved the nearly useless gun between his back and the waistband of his pants and moved onto a second weapon - a compact bow. There were even a few arrows handy. Grinning, he checked the strings as Bulma rifled through the pantry, removing a tin of chocolate frosting, a can of stewed tomatoes and a canning jar of pickles. As she zipped her pack up and slung one of the straps over her shoulder, something rustled upstairs. She met Vegeta's gaze and he nodded, once, before taking a few silent steps toward the staircase.

"We should just go," she whispered, even though she knew there could be other resources - food, weapons, bottled water, maybe a pack of matches or a book - or possibly survivors who needed their assistance. Vegeta ignored her words and started up the steps, his feline grace making her feel uncoordinated and clunky.

A wooden door awaited them at the top of the staircase - three slats of wood helped to nail it shut.

"They were trying to keep those Walkers out," he said, beginning to pry the wood from the wall. "Or those upstairs were hoping to keep those two downstairs."

Either way, Bulma wasn't anxious to stick around to find out. Her sweaty palms clutched the pistol with both hands, and when Vegeta succeeded in removing the third and final two-by-four, he pushed the door in.

There were six of them. Bulma took a careful step backwards, her toes seeking purchase on a lower step as a half dozen Walkers turned in her direction simultaneously, smelling her flesh and releasing that low, wrenching moan that still caused a shiver to snake down her spine. They started barreling toward them, bottlenecking at the doorway. Vegeta stepped in front of her, momentarily blocking out the frightening scene with his back. He swung at the first, hatched arching downward and splitting one of the Walker's skulls. There were too many of them in too cramped a space for Vegeta to take them on by hand. He pulled the hatchet from the fallen Walker but as soon as he'd fallen another was there to take his place. Vegeta planted his elbow into the Walker's jaw and though it stumbled back, buying them some time, he knew it was only a few second before it recovered.

Reaching for the recently confiscated revolver in his waistband, he raised the weapon and squeezed the trigger. The barrel clicked but nothing happened.

"Shit," he cursed, tossing the weapon to the ground. "It's jammed."

Without another word, he grabbed for Bulma's elbow and started pulling her down the staircase, through the tiny living room where the stench of death clung to the air, and out the thick wooden door. Vegeta let go of her and she felt… cold. Alone again. He threw the cabin door closed before taking off running. Unsure if her legs would be able to keep up, Bulma followed as best she could, stumbling down the pair of porch steps and breaking into a spring as they reached the woods.

One Walker stood at the edge of the forest and hearing their commotion lumbered toward them. Vegeta raised his rifle and took it out with a single bullet through the center of its skull. An impressive shot at this distance, even for him.

Bulma's heart thrummed in her chest. The pumping of blood filled her ears and clouded her vision. Vegeta had stopped running and allowed her to catch her breath. She inhaled deeply, gasping, and noted that Vegeta wasn't winded. His eyes were narrowed in the direction of the cabin in the distance and she knew if she didn't stop him he'd return to take out the Walkers left inside. A small mercy, perhaps, but it wasn't mercy that drove his actions. It was rage.

"It isn't worth it," she managed when the exhaustion began giving way to a shaking sensation of relief. She was alive. She'd made it another day despite the danger that seemed ready to take her at every corner. Though her heart still pounded furiously against her ribs, it wasn't fear as much now as it was adrenaline. It flooded her every pore with nervous excitement. The waves of her pulse like canons in her ears, the rush heightening her senses and numbing the edges of her conscious.

"I'm not used to this yet."

Vegeta shrugged off her words. "It isn't something you get used to. You just learn to deal with it."

She wasn't ready to deal with it, but she didn't want Vegeta to get the impression that she was weak. So instead she continued walking even though her heartbeat was racing and her hands were shaking. When she inhaled, it wasn't the stench of rotting flesh but the pungent odor of sulfur. A small comfort; a reminder that she'd been recently washed and safe and not alone through this hellish nightmare.

And when she glanced over to find Vegeta's profile lit by the setting sun, she stopped walking. He was… handsome. Certainly rugged. It wasn't the first time she'd noticed, but with her pulse spiking and adrenaline pumping she was ultra aware of every inch of him. While her own naturally alabaster skin had reddened, his was honeyed from long days spent in the sun. His mop of black hair stood from the crown of his head, swooping up into a gravity-defying flame. His brows were always knitted low over his dark eyes, and Bulma's fingers itched to trace the lines of his high, regal cheekbones and the lower lip that was always turned down in a frown.

They weren't the only thing she wanted to touch. Bulma could see the corded of muscles at his neck and collarbone disappearing into the opening of his shirt, a promise of the sinew of hard muscle that lay there. It wasn't just the adrenaline spike that urged her to give in and feel him, solid and real and unyielding to this hellish nightmare. Lunch had claimed in the hot spring that Chichi wanted Goku so she could have an anchor in this world worth living for.

Bulma didn't want anything as silly as that. But she wouldn't mind a bit of a break - some fun before she had to go back to camp and continue pressing on, to continue searching for hope in a mostly hopeless world.

And then there was the blood coursing through her veins, a flare of excitement at the thought of being alive. A slow smile spread across her features, tugged at her lips. Her mother's words echoed in her mind.

For once, Mrs. Brief was right - Vegeta _did_ deserve a treat. They all did for making it this long.

Stepping forward and thoroughly invading his precious personal space, Bulma channeled her feminine wiles. She peered up at him through her lashes and nearly burst into laughter.

Vegeta looked … terrified. Caught off guard he took a step back, regaining some of his space, and she delighted in the touch of color on his cheeks. He was uncomfortable with her, and not to be deterred, she took another step toward him and grinned. This time he looked less surprised. He still didn't look happy for her to be standing so close but he hadn't ripped her head off, so he wasn't mad at least.

The little crease between his brows hardened. He definitely didn't look happy. Bulma dipped her head to one side a bit her plump lower lip.

"Quit looking at me like you're contemplating the easiest way to kill me."

"I don't particularly want to kill you," he replied, voice low. "I just wouldn't mind if you died."

She rolled her eyes. "That's bullshit; we've already decided that it's in your best interest to keep me around. Besides, I'm tired of talking about death." Neither the frown or crease let up. She placed a brazen hand on his chest and delighted in the tightening of muscle she could feel beneath the soft material of his shirt. "We should be celebrating that we're among the living."

His frown remained as one of her hands slipped from his chest to his stomach and down to buckle of his belt. His frown was still present as she loosened the belt and when her fingers slid the button of his pants free. His expression held jaded as she tugged his zipper down.

But when she tilted her head just so and brushed her lips against his, the frown was gone. She couldn't see it but she could feel the evidence of it as Vegeta grabbed her hips, yanked her none too gently forward, and kissed her back.


	35. Krillin

**The** air smelled like dew and the headiness of pine needles. The moisture of the still morning dripped from the trees looming overhead and clung to the blades of grass at their feet. He sniffed the air, remembering what it felt like - being surrounded by nature, nothing but the clothes on his back and the knowledge in his brain to get by.

Master Roshi had often dropped him off on a nearby island to train, and part of the exercise was learning the lay of the land. Learning to survive. He thought of Roshi and Oolong back on island, waiting on their return. Probably losing hope with every passing day, growing hungrier and more desperate. Krillin frowned and shook away the images forming in his mind.

They would make it. And then Krillin would have to explain how neither Yajirobe or Yamcha had returned with him, but he'd picked up a dozen or so stowaways in exchange.

"You keep sighing," 18 said, breaking him out of his reflections. When he looked over, she was staring ahead.

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

She frowned and kept walking, through the dewy grass and toward the little dot Bulma had pointed to on the map where she believed a convenience mart or feed store might lay. They were stocked on water but their non perishable food supply was always depleting. However, they were really after substantial things: seeds, animals, farm equipment.

Things that would make surviving a part of life and not the day-to-day struggle it was now. Bulma and Goku had discussed the training island nearby that morning, too. Bulma wasn't sure if it was inhabited, but she thought it might make a good place for a garden and raising some animals. Maybe they could build some houses out that way since Kame House was sure to be crowded with the likes of Raditz and Nappa and Lunch all under one roof.

And even though he should've been thinking about things like a game plan for if they'd discovered a feed store and he probably should've been trying harder to remember if the training island had, in fact, been uninhabited, all he could do was inhale the fresh air and pine needles and sneak looks at 18.

She was beautiful. A hard, sharp beauty that fascinated him as much as it intimidated him. She was tall and lithe, with short blonde hair swinging so it just brushed her shoulders. Her clear blue eyes always held a look of animosity, but he'd seen her a bit less guarded on occasion and he wondered if she'd kick him in the balls if he confessed how those glimpses of vulnerability made him feel. Like he wanted to protect her, even if he was the least qualified man left in the universe, and even if she wasn't exactly the type of woman who needed protection.

"Wait," she snapped, and he nearly tripped over his own feet at the suddenness he braked. Those blue eyes he probably hadn't been subtle about staring at flicked one direction then another, carefully surveying the woods around them. The pine trees stood unbending to the slight breeze, tossing long shadows over the forest in the rising sunlight.

Krillin strained his ears and it wasn't long until he heard it, too. Embarrassing that she'd been more in tune with their surroundings. A long, sickening moan echoed somewhere in the east side of the forrest. He felt the cool prick of sweat on his neck and pulled out the pair of _sais_ Master Roshi had given him for protection. He had guns now, but there was no use wasting bullets and alerting every Walker in their vicinity of his position. Not when he was perfectly capable of fighting hand-to-hand.

Before he could even see the Walker, 18 shot an arrow into the woods, waited a moment, and went after it. He was quick on her heels, listening but hearing no other signs. At the base of one of the thick pines a young Walker lay on its back. Krillin looked away as 18 unlodged her arrow from its skull. It was young. Far too young. He felt sick.

"I hate this fucking disease," 18 said. "I don't think of them as people, because they aren't, but this… It isn't right."

He could only nod, reveling in her wasting enough breath to talk to him. She didn't say anything else - just brushed the dark, clotted blood off on her pants and pressed on. So he didn't get a chance to show off his martial arts training, to prove that he was more than just a short tag-along member of the group. Although, he doubted flexing his muscles was the way to go about impressing 18.

If he knew what _would_ work, he'd have done it already.

They continued down the trail and to where a small town lay, just where Bulma said it would. They took out the three Walkers on the street, but 18 didn't seem to notice that he'd handled two of them with ease. She just knocked on the feed store door and when nothing rattled inside, she threw it open, grabbed a duffle bag from the shelves, and started loading up. Krillin followed her quickly, taking a second bag and stuffing it with anything that seemed handy. Which, given how this town hadn't seemed too badly hit, was nearly everything. There didn't seem to be any livestock, but he wasn't sure what the logistics of bringing something like that along would be anyway. Chichi had told him what seeds would take best to the island soil and temperature, but he couldn't remember which so he stuffed all that was left into his pack. Then he felt guilty and put a few of the seed packages back, just in case some other survivors chanced upon this store and needed some for themselves.

"Why are you putting them back?" 18 asked, her bag bursting at the seams.

"I don't want to be greedy. There might be others out there, trying to survive as well."

She opened her mouth and then shut it nearly as fast, looking confused but not entirely upset. Then those clear blue eyes met his like they were trying to understand him and Krillin straightened beneath the weight of her scrutiny.

"Okay then," she finally said, before turning and trying to zip her bag. When she finally managed, she took a second bag and began loading. Krillin felt entirely useless on the walk back - carrying one nearly weightless bag of seeds while 18 carried the pair of heavier duffles with ease. He'd offer to help, but that might offend her. Instead, he matched her strides and tried his hand at making conversation. It was mostly unsuccessful, but ever so often she indulged him and it made his chest tighten with pleasure.

Back at camp, Raditz was lounging by the fence and shot the pair an apologetic grimace as they approached.

"Looks like you two had a good day," he said, reaching for one of the bags. 18 handed it over and Krillin once again felt a touch inadequate. Maybe she wasn't opposed to a little chivalry. "Can't say the same for us."

To her credit, she didn't look upset when she said, "There was an attack?"

"No." Raditz gave a humorless laugh. "Maron found out that we had sex. She threw some things, Bulma yelled at her that she was going to attract Walkers, Lunch yelled at Bulma that _she_ was going to attract Walkers. I thought we'd have a good girl fight on our hands, but Maron's since calmed down." He frowned, looking a bit off-put and Krillin figured that meant while she wasn't going to fight Bulma, Maron hadn't exactly gone and forgiven Raditz just yet.

The big, hairy man sulked off, and Krillin opened his mouth to tease 18 when he noticed she looked… guilty.

"I don't like him, if that's what you're thinking," she said, voice matter-of-fact. "I didn't even like him then."

Krillin grinned. "It's fine. I don't care what you do. Or who."

She looked even more hurt and Krillin immediately regretted his choice of words.

"I just mean," he continued, "I understand. It gets lonely out here." He'd thought about getting with Maron once. Which seemed like years ago now, even if it was only a matter of weeks.

"Yeah." She looked at him then, really looked at him and those clear blue eyes seemed a little lost and, for the first time, Krillin wasn't even intimidated by them. "It does."

"Probably wish you would've waited until after he bathed in the hot spring though."

A small grin tugged at her lips. Krillin's heart banged against his ribcage. He thought it would take weeks of him wearing her down to get her to smile like that.

"You're a good person, Krillin," she said. "I wish you'd been around when I'd let my hormones get the better of me."

And then she slinked off like she hadn't the slightest clue what _those_ words were doing to him, and before he could even squeak in reply, Goku was there, frowning at him.

"Get any good stuff?"

Krillin shook his head. "Uh. Yep. Chichi will be thrilled."

"Good," Goku replied, his smile enthusiastic. Though as he took the light duffle bag the look of pure, unadulterated happiness faded.

"It isn't food," Krillin laughed. "But it will be. Seeds, mostly. Chichi said she'd be able to grow some things on Training Island."

"Oh! Alright! I love Training Island. Maybe Roshi will take us over there for some lessons. Maybe he'll even train Nappa and Tien and Lunch and Chichi and Vegeta, too. That would be fun."

Krillin shot his friend a slanted look at laughed at the image forming in his mind, of Nappa and 18 and Vegeta being bossed around by a wrinkling old pervert with a turtle shell on his back. Of the outbursts and the fights and, well, it wouldn't so different from now actually. Trying to all get along, to live somewhat peacefully amongst each other.

"Hey Krillin," Goku said, scratching a spot behind his neck. They'd been friends since they were kids, and Krillin knew the action was a sign that Goku was nervous about something. Usually it meant he'd lit a forest on Training Island on fire or broke Roshi's kitchen table again. "Can I ask you a question? About… girls?"

"Ah, Goku. I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask."

"I don't really know who else _to_ ask."

Krillin thought of Goku's other acquaintances and nodded. "Fair enough."

"I think Chichi likes me."

"Yeah?"

"I think I like her too, but she's kind of scary."

Krillin laughed. "She _is_ scary, Goku." Krillin still hoped she didn't unleash on him for getting the wrong seeds. "But sometimes scary girls are the ones you like and you just can't help it."

"Yeah." Goku nodded. "18's pretty scary too. Scarier than Chichi, probably."

Krillin frowned. "That obvious, hm?" And when Goku only shrugged, he sighed. His friend was right. 18 scared the hell out of him, but whatever else he did, he'd make sure - next time her hormones got the better of her, he'd be there.


End file.
